More than he Seems
by Tesekian
Summary: Pre LotR. When Legolas is attacked by slavers, help comes from the same race that caused his injuries. In the danger that follows, he will learn that not all humans are alike. COMPLETED
1. Default Chapter

Legolas leaned against a tree for support, breathing heavily. Pain tore across his chest with every breath and his legs shook beneath him. His right leg protested violently at having this weight put on it. Blood flowed down from the deep gash in his thigh, but he had nothing with which to stop the bleeding. He might have been able to bandage it with his shirt, but it would take too long to stop and do that.  
  
After only a moment's pause, he was moving forward again. Blood splattered the ground in his wake as he stumbled towards the next tree, clutching at the branches to keep himself from falling. The ground seemed to be swaying beneath his feet, and he could feel a trickle of blood running down from the deep gash on his forehead.  
  
He still gripped his bow, the quiver at his back, though he doubted he would be able to shoot with any accuracy right now. His vision swam alarmingly in front of him and pain was dimming his senses. His whole body seemed in agony. Aside from the deep wound in his leg and the cut on his forehead, the rest of his body was adorned in bruises and swallow cuts. He had a feeling one of his ribs might be broken, judging from the pain that accompanied each breath.  
  
He staggered on a few more steps, heedless of direction. He just needed to get away from those men. If they found him in this condition, he wouldn't be able to fight for long. He couldn't let them capture him, the resolve hardened within him, giving him the strength to go on a little further, though the strength was rapidly fading. He was worried that in another few minutes he would be able to go no further, and he wasn't far enough away yet.  
  
He now understood why his father had warned him to stay away from humans. An elf would never attack a lone traveller without reason. Though he guessed from the chained humans they already had captive that they thought they had reason enough. Slavers! How anyone could do that to another living being was beyond Legolas, and those humans were doing it to their own kind. It was barbaric!  
  
He paused again, nearly unconscious from the pain. Suddenly a sound behind him made him turn, the sudden movement sending his head reeling. A human stood there, though Legolas' vision was too blurred now to tell him much more than that.  
  
Legolas brought his bow up quickly, though he needed two attempts to fit an arrow on a string which seemed to have duplicated itself somehow.  
  
"Get back!" Legolas ordered. There now seemed to be two identical humans in front of him, and he hoped he was aiming the arrow at the right one.  
  
"Put down your weapons," the human said. He took a step towards the elf. Legolas thought he had a hand on a sword hilt, but he couldn't be sure. Either way, he hadn't drawn a weapon. Yet.  
  
"Get back or I'll shoot." Legolas couldn't see the human's expression clearly, but he heard something that might have been a laugh.  
  
The world seemed to be growing dark. It couldn't be night already, good it? Legolas swayed dangerously, though he didn't lower his bow. If he did it would be opening himself to an attack he couldn't defend against.  
  
"I can help you, if you let me," the human said. Well, Legolas wasn't going to fall for that. His father had always said that humans couldn't be trusted, and the attack he had just come through was proof of that.  
  
The human stepped towards him again, and Legolas took a step backwards. That was too much for his leg to cope with. It gave way beneath him and he fell. The human's face loomed above him briefly, then was swallowed in the darkness.  
  
***  
  
Author's note: Ugh! A horribly short chapter. At least I dumped you straight into the action, and cliffhangers. Review and I will love you forever. 


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. If you leave an email address I'll try and get back to you personally about your reviews.  
  
***  
  
Pain. Pain that rose and fell in time to the beat of his heart. His head felt as though it was the centre for a dwarf mining operation and his leg ached. He drew in a shaking breath, and a stab of agony shot through his chest.  
  
Legolas opened his eyes, but the world was too bright so he quickly closed them. He lifted a hand to his forehead, and touched cloth. He cautiously opened his eyes again, expecting to see his father telling him that he should be more careful, or that he shouldn't hunt spiders on his own, or any number of things he normally said in these situations.  
  
Instead an unfamiliar face swam into view. Legolas tried to push himself up on his elbows to look round, but a firm hand pressed him into the ground and he didn't have the strength to resist it.  
  
"Don't try to move yet." The recollection of recent events filtered through his fogged mind. This was the man he had met just before losing consciousness. Legolas shifted slightly, testing his movements. Pain shot through his right leg, but he discovered that he wasn't bound, which surprised him.  
  
He looked round at their surroundings. He was lying on the rough ground in a small clearing. He could hear the various sounds of woodland creatures, and the sound of water somewhere nearby, but he couldn't quite make it out from his position. In the centre of the clearing was the remains of a fire and beyond that a pile of gear.  
  
Legolas tried to see his weapons. There was a bow amongst the gear, but it wasn't his. It probably belonged to the man. There was thankfully no sign of chains or prisoners.  
  
The man walked across to the gear and returned with a water skin. He held this to Legolas' lips and after a moment's hesitation he drank. After all, if the human had bothered bandaging his head he was unlikely to poison him. Until he began drinking he had been unaware of how thirsty he was. He was also hungry, he realised now.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked as the man removed the empty skin.  
  
"Who are you?" the man asked.  
  
"I asked first," Legolas said, not anxious to reveal his identity to a human. He doubted any of them would have heard his name, but he didn't want to risk it. He had no way of knowing what this man would do if he found out he had an elven prince as his prisoner.  
  
"If you refuse to tell me your name even after I saved your life, why should I trust you with mine?" the man inquired.  
  
"So I should just call you human?"  
  
"If you wish, elf." The was a silence as the human went to his gear and began sorting through one of the bags, apparently engrossed in his task. Legolas raised himself off the ground slightly, but that small movement filled his head with pain that blacked out all other sensations, and he sank back down again.  
  
"Why did you bother doing this, when it was your people who injured me?" Legolas asked after a time.  
  
"I very much doubt my people hurt you," the man said, "for one thing my people dwell far from here. And for another my lord is strongly opposed to needless violence."  
  
"It was your kind," Legolas said in a voice filled with anger. The man just smiled at him, which Legolas found strangely disconcerting.  
  
"You should rest," the man said, "your body needs to heal."  
  
"How would you know what and elf's body needs?" Again that smile came. A strangely superior smile, as though he knew something Legolas didn't. Legolas really didn't like being looked at like that by a human. After all, elves were the older of the races, the immortals. This man had no right to look so self-important.  
  
"Rest." Legolas lay on the ground, because he didn't have any choice in the matter, and gradually sleep stole over him.  
  
When he woke the man was nowhere in sight. Legolas pushed himself into a sitting position, despite the protests of his head at the movement. Throbbing pain filled his temples and it seemed the dwarves were still busy excavating his skull. He looked round for his weapons but couldn't find them. Had the man destroyed them? It seemed like the sort of thing an uncultured man would do: destroy a beautiful work of elven craft.  
  
Perhaps his weapons were with the human's things. He tried to stand, but found he couldn't even get as far as kneeling without his right leg giving way beneath him. The way it felt now it was a miracle he had been able to make his escape. Adrenaline must have kept him going somehow.  
  
He heard someone approaching, and turned to see the human. The bow Legolas had seen earlier was slung across his back and he carried several small rabbits. The sight of them made Legolas' stomach growl. He was surprised how close the man was when he'd first heard him. Normally he would have heard a human from much further away than that. Perhaps pain was dimming his awareness slightly.  
  
"I thought you might be hungry," the man said. He placed the rabbits down and picked up a pot. When he returned it was full of water, so Legolas now knew the direction of the stream he'd heard. With the skill of obvious practise he lit and fire to heat the water and then began to skin the rabbits.  
  
Legolas watched in silence, and the man didn't seem to have any desire to speak either. Legolas wondered who this man was, and why he'd helped him. He probably had some secret purpose of his own, since no human would help another unless he had something to gain from it, but it worked to Legolas' advantage this time. He'd try not to hurt him when he made his escape.  
  
Legolas let his thoughts wander along that path for a while. Hopefully the man didn't know much about elves, so he could pretend to be more hurt than he was. It seemed that the human didn't want to aggravate the wounds by tying him up, so as long as he pretended to be in agony he would be left alone. Right now such a pretence didn't seem so hard.  
  
The man cut up the meat and placed it in the water, which was now boiling on the fire. He went to his pack and took out some small items Legolas couldn't see clearly, because of the position of the man. He added these to the pot and gave it a stir. Then he took out some long strips of cloth.  
  
"I ought to check your bandages again," he said.  
  
"They're fine," Legolas said sharply. He didn't feel like having a human probing his body.  
  
"You should let me judge that," the man said. He knelt at Legolas' side and reached for the bandage across his forehead. Legolas tried to push the man's hands away, but without the support of his arms he found he couldn't even sit. He would have fallen if the man hadn't put a hand against his back. A realistic voice in the back of his mind told him it wouldn't be a bad idea if someone checked him over. He just wished that someone didn't have to be human.  
  
The man helped him shift to a tree so he could lean back against it and remain sitting. Then he carefully unwound the bandage that was wrapped around Legolas' forehead. Legolas swallowed a gasp of pain as the last layer was pulled off, he didn't want this man to see how much he was suffering. Then he remembered he was supposed to be pretending everything was worse so he could escape.  
  
He submitted reluctantly as the man rubbed some sort of ointment in the cut. It stung, and this time he allowed the pain to show. Hopefully the man would think Legolas would be too proud, and that he must be in complete agony. Legolas hated doing this, but it was his best chance of escape. As soon as the human discovered he was healing he would probably tie him up or put him in chains.  
  
The man rebound his head, then moved to lift Legolas' tunic. Legolas caught his hand by the wrist to stop him. Some things he would submit to, but he wouldn't allow himself to be undressed by a human.  
  
"I'm fine," he snarled.  
  
The human lifted his free hand and pressed it against Legolas' chest. The cry of pain escaped before he could stop it and he instinctively released his grasp of the man's wrist.  
  
"I think you need some more lessons in Westron," the man said, "your definition of fine is not the one most people would use." He was smiling as he said it, and Legolas glowered back at him. Then he lifted the tunic.  
  
Tight bandages were wrapped around his chest. As the human unwound these, Legolas found breathing become more painful as the broken rib scraped inside. He bit his lip until he tasted the metallic tang of blood: the human had made him cry once, no more. The practicalities of his escape plan surrendered to his pride.  
  
His chest was badly bruised, with the occasional red line of a cut. The human rubbed some more of his stinging ointment onto it.  
  
"What is that?" Legolas asked.  
  
"A mix of herbs, including athelas. It helps with most injuries." Legolas nodded. At least it was unlikely to be poisonous, and if it contained athelas it might actually be of some use.  
  
"Did you make it yourself?"  
  
"Not this particular batch, though I know the recipe. This came from my lord's stores."  
  
"He's a healer?"  
  
"The best."  
  
"I doubt it," Legolas said, "he might be good for a human, but he could hardly be the best." The man chuckled softly, and selected a long bandage to bind up Legolas' ribs. Legolas wondered what the joke was, but couldn't ask because he was too busy trying not to scream as the human wrapped the tight cloth around his chest.  
  
Once he had finished the pain lessened, but sharp stabs still shot through his chest with each breath. He'd broken ribs before though, and knew it would pass soon enough.  
  
"Now which of us is going to remove your trousers?" the man asked grinning. Legolas glared at him. Clearly the man had already done so when Legolas was unconscious, but that didn't stop him being infuriated at the humiliation of it now.  
  
"I can bandage my own leg."  
  
"Are you trained as a healer?"  
  
"I wouldn't trust anyone trained by a human."  
  
"I wasn't." For a moment Legolas could only blink at the man in surprise, then he went on to explain. "I was trained by an elf."  
  
"What elf would waste his skills training a human?"  
  
"I wouldn't say it was wasted. You shouldn't either, since it's only because of his training that you're alive." Unfortunately, Legolas couldn't deny that, much though he hated admitting the human was right. What he couldn't understand was what elf would take in a human and train him. Humans were so short-lived it seemed pointless to teach them how to extend their meagre lives by a few short years.  
  
Legolas remained silent, glaring at the human, until he shrugged and turned away. He went and tended the meat, keeping his back turned to Legolas so he could maintain some semblance of dignity.  
  
It was a struggled for Legolas to remove his trousers given his position, but there was no way he would ask the human for help. After some time he managed to get them down to his knees, exposing a mass of white bandages around his right thigh. In places he could see red dots on the white. He must have been bleeding badly for it to soak through this much. Again he wondered how he'd managed to stay upright.  
  
After a few painful minutes he was finished. Moments later the man tipped some of the meat into a bowl and carried it to Legolas. Handing the elf a fork, he returned to the fire to give himself a helping.  
  
"Thank you," Legolas said.  
  
"You're welcome." Legolas ate hungrily. He knew that whatever came next wouldn't be good, so he had to make the most of the moment and regain as much strength as possible. He had to prepare so when the time came he would be able to fight.  
  
***  
  
Author's note: A much longer chapter than last time, but I think I need to work on the cliffhanger. Those of you who think it's Aragorn will just have to keep guessing.  
  
Please let me know what you think. And if anyone knows the elvish word for brother I'd be grateful if you could tell me. I've got one translation, but I'm not sure it's correct. 


	3. Chapter 3

Legolas slept through most of the night, waking in the pale predawn light. The human was nowhere to be seen. Cautiously, careful of his leg, he pulled himself over to the pile of the man's things. Pain shot through his leg and chest as he dragged himself along the rough ground. He considered trying to stand briefly, but if his leg hurt this much now, he doubted walking was a possibility.  
  
He sat back against a convenient tree and looked in the man's pack. There was something very interesting in there, just some food and healing supplies. There were a few little oddments that were always useful while travelling such as bowls and cutlery, and a small box of salt. He was about to leave the pack and looked through the other things, when a glint of metal caught his eye.  
  
There was a pocket, cunningly concealed, near the bottom of the bag. Legolas reached into it and pulled out a dagger. His first thought was that it was his own long knife, but he saw quickly that it wasn't, though it was elven craft. He drew it from its sheath, looking closely at the bright, sharp blade. It was simple enough, with no gems or decorations, save for a single inscription down the blade. 'Toron'. The elvish word for brother was written in fine, elvish characters.  
  
Legolas stared at it in curiosity. How did a human come by this? A worrying through entered Legolas' mind. If he could read elvish, he might have read the inscription on his bow, and know exactly who his prisoner was. It was unlikely though that a human could speak elvish, he had probably just bought the blade somewhere.  
  
Another, even more worrying thought entered his mind. Perhaps he had killed an elf, and taken the dagger as a trophy. If so, he wouldn't hesitated to kill Legolas.  
  
"Some might consider it rude to go through another person's things without permission." Legolas spun quickly, the sharp movement sending pain through his entire body, almost making him cry out.  
  
The human stood behind him, leaning casually against a tree. He didn't look particularly angry, but Legolas didn't have much experience with men and so couldn't be sure. The surprising thing was that Legolas hadn't heard him approached. Elven hearing didn't miss much usually.  
  
"How does it come to pass that a human owns an elven blade?" Legolas asked.  
  
"Not that it's any of your business," the man responded, "but it was a gift from my brother." The man sat down in front of Legolas. "Though the last time I saw him he looked as though he would be willing to stab me with it."  
  
Legolas couldn't tell if the human was being serious or not. He couldn't think of anything drastic enough to make a brother willing to kill, but perhaps it was different for humans. "What happened?" Legolas asked.  
  
"He'd been boasting rather too much about his skill with a bow. He is good, granted, but that's no reason to brag about it constantly. Anyway, he'd invited a maiden he was rather fond of to come and what his archery practice. Then, for some mysterious reason, he couldn't find his bow." The human was grinning at this point, and something in his tone made Legolas grin too.  
  
"I offered to help him look for a spare, and I did find one. Unfortunately, when I gave it to him he didn't have any time to check it over if he was going to be there on time, so he didn't notice the bow's string was faulty until he tried to shoot." Legolas chuckled to himself, thinking of a few back in Mirkwood he would like to play such a trick on.  
  
"Unfortunately," the man went on, "my brother didn't find it as funny as I did. So I decided it would be a good idea to go travelling for a decade or two until he calms down." The man laughed softly, "It was worth it."  
  
"Does your brother have a name?" Legolas asked.  
  
"Trouble," the man muttered. Legolas guessed that he wasn't going to get a more sincere answer out of the man, so he turned the conversation to other matters.  
  
"Where are my weapons?"  
  
"When you're strong enough to find them, you'll be strong enough to leave."  
  
"You'll just let me go?"  
  
"Of course, what did you expect me to do?" The statement surprised Legolas. His father had always taught him that humans never acted out of anything but their own self-interest. For one of them to help for no reason other than kindness was inconceivable.  
  
They fell into silence after that, and talked little for the rest of the day. Legolas wasn't willing to say much about himself, and the human seemed similarly disinclined. It was rather a dull time.  
  
The man went off into the woods hunting again soon, and while the meat was cooking insisted on inspecting Legolas' wounds again. Legolas complained violently that it was unnecessary, but eventually submitted. He knew it was a sensible precaution, but his pride wouldn't let him back down without giving a fight.  
  
As Legolas sat staring up at the sky through the trees, he wished he could be up in the branches. It was impossible, since right now he couldn't even stand to reach the lowest branch. He leaned back against the trunk, watching the leaves rustle in the breeze. Green against blue, mingled with the brown of the branches and. . . white?  
  
Legolas looked closer. There was definitely something white among the branches. Something that looked suspiciously like the handle of a long, elven knife.  
  
"You put my weapons in the tree?"  
  
"It seemed the best place to keep an elf's things safe," the man said with a shrug. Legolas smiled at that comment. As soon as his leg was able to bear his weight for a few seconds he would be up there in the branches, and then he would be gone.  
  
***  
  
It was still dark when Legolas woke. So dark even elf eyes could barely pierce the gloom. He wondered why he'd woken up. There were no sounds but the rustle of the leaves, and other sounds ever present in a wood. But still he felt that something was wrong.  
  
He raised his head slightly, imperceptibly. The man sitting against a tree, his head lowered to his chest in sleep. The camp was as it should be. Or so it seemed.  
  
There was something moving in the trees behind the man. Something skilled at staying hidden. Legolas reached instinctively for his knife, only to find it wasn't there.  
  
The something was getting closer. Legolas saw a blade glitter in the moonlight and called out a warning.  
  
Too late.  
  
Before the man was even fully awake, another man grabbed him from behind, and pressed a knife to his throat. Legolas sat up quickly, but unarmed and injured there was very little he could do.  
  
***  
  
Author's note: Yay! The evil cliffhangers are back. Unfortunately, so are the short chapters. But everyone was pushing me to update quickly and I do what I'm told. Occasionally. 


	4. Chapter 4

The man reached for his sword hilt, but the other man pressed the knife harder against his throat, not quite drawing blood.  
  
"I could slit your throat before you even half-draw your sword," the new man said. Legolas glanced around for anything that might be even vaguely useful as a weapon, but found nothing. Then to his amazement the newcomer stepped backwards, sheathing the knife.  
  
"You need to learn not to fall asleep on watch, Halbarad," the newcomer said.  
  
"You need to learn to loosen your grip," the man, Halbarad, said, rubbing his neck. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Your brother asked if I could make sure you didn't fall in a ditch or get into trouble with goblins again."  
  
"In other words he wants the pleasure of killing me himself."  
  
"Probably. What did you do to him this time?" The newcomer seated himself on the ground and Legolas realised he was witnessing a meeting of old friends.  
  
"Embarrassed him in front of Firiel."  
  
"Your brother aims too high, half the men in Eriador are courting her."  
  
"Except those who are besotted by elf maidens," Halbarad said with a grin on his face.  
  
"I'm not besotted!"  
  
Halbarad's expression took on a dreamy look and his voice became mocking, "She is as fair as Luthien who walked Middle Earth in ages past. Her voice is sweeter than a nightingale's.'"  
  
"Are you saying she isn't?"  
  
"I wouldn't dare. If you didn't kill me her brothers would."  
  
Legolas watched this conversation with undisguised curiosity. He could understand why a human would consider an elf fair, but didn't understand why humans would have such contact with elves.  
  
The newcomer looked over at Legolas, and Legolas saw that he wasn't alone in his curiosity. "I see you've been putting the supplies you stole from me to good use."  
  
"I prefer to think that I borrowed them."  
  
"So you plan on giving me back the bandages and ointments after you've used them?"  
  
"Perhaps stole is the better word." The newcomer smiled, then looked carefully at Legolas. It was too dark to read his expression clearly, but his eyes gleamed in a way that made the elf feel slightly nervous.  
  
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"  
  
"He wouldn't tell me his name. There's something inscribed on his bow, but I. . ."  
  
"Couldn't be bothered to learn to speak elvish?"  
  
"I'm just not very good at learning languages."  
  
"Especially when you don't even go to the lessons."  
  
"Well, if you want to show off your skills in elvish, his bow's in the tree." The newcomer gave Halbarad a puzzled look.  
  
"I'm not going to ask," he muttered. He walked to the tree, then after only a moment's hesitation climbed up almost as skilfully as an elf. Not quite, but almost. Legolas watched in silent curiosity. Who were these two strange humans?  
  
The man climbed down as easily as he'd climbed up, clutching Legolas' weapons. He looked at the inscription on the bow, then stared at Legolas in amazement. Legolas had no doubt the man had understood, and knew exactly who his prisoner was.  
  
"Start a fire," he ordered, "I'll need some light." Wordlessly Halbarad laid some wood on the ashes of the previous day's fire. While he was busy, the other man took off a pack which was on his back and began searching in it.  
  
Meanwhile Legolas had pulled himself into a sitting position, and was testing his leg to see if he would be able to stand. It still wouldn't bare his weight, he realised, but he might be able to get into a standing position using his left leg and his arms. Not that he would be able to fight very well even if he stood.  
  
By now a slight blaze was going, and the man took from his pack a writing case. Placing it on the ground by the small fire, he took out parchment and ink and began to write. Legolas couldn't read it from where he was, but recognised quickly that it was being written in the gentle, curving strokes of elvish.  
  
"Who are you?" Legolas demanded.  
  
"My name is Aragorn, your highness," the man replied without looking up from his writing.  
  
"Highness?" asked Halbarad in amazement.  
  
"Yes," Aragorn said, still writing.  
  
"What are you writing?" Legolas asked.  
  
"A letter to your father."  
  
"And how do you intend to deliver it?" Legolas was rather worried about what the letter might say. The thought of a ransom demand flickered across his mind. His father would certainly pay, but he didn't want that to happen if he could avoid it.  
  
"Halbarad will take it."  
  
"I will?"  
  
"Yes, you will." Legolas wondered who this man was, that he could give orders and simply expect them to be carried out. He remembered a comment Halbarad had made, about taking the ointment from his lord's stores. Aragorn had said Halbarad had taken some supplies from him.  
  
Legolas would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so drastic. If this man was lord of anybody then humans certainly had strange ideas about the rank. Aragorn finished his letter, and heated some sealing wax above the fire. He took a ring from a pocket to seal the letter, then looked towards Legolas.  
  
"I don't suppose you have something that I could send as identification?" he asked. Legolas glared.  
  
"I suppose I could send your bow." Legolas bristled with anger at that suggestion. He didn't want these foul humans touching his bow! "Then give me something else."  
  
Aragorn knelt in front of Legolas. He reached out to take the broach which fastened his cloak, but Legolas' hands snapped up to grab his wrists. Legolas suspected that even a human child would be able to break his grip right now, but the man didn't even try.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you, I just need something your father will recognise."  
  
"Why? So you can demand ransom for my release?"  
  
He laughed. "That's why you're so against this? It doesn't occur to you that we might be trying to help?"  
  
"Why would a human help an elf?"  
  
"I swear on the name of Earendil I mean you no harm." In the shock of hearing a human intone the name of a figure from elven legend, Legolas released his grip. Before he realised what was happening, Aragorn had unfastened the broach. He handed it to Halbarad along with the letter.  
  
"At first light you will leave for Mirkwood, and deliver these to King Thranduil. If his soldiers don't want to let you enter, tell them it concerns Thrandulion."  
  
"Thrandulawhat?"  
  
"Thrandulion. Just tell them." The exasperated tone of voice was strangely familiar. And if it weren't for the ears, Legolas could have sworn the facial expression the man wore was familiar as well. For half a moment he could almost have been looking at Lord Elrond.  
  
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Aragorn asked, noticing the look Legolas was giving him.  
  
Legolas decided to go for the truthful approach. "Your expression was very similar to one Lord Elrond has sometimes."  
  
There was a strange snort from Halbarad. When Legolas looked towards him, he had both hands clamped over his mouth and looked as though he was about to explode.  
  
"If you dare laugh," Aragorn said in a calm voice that was also very like Elrond's, "I will personally hand you over to your brother."  
  
Halbarad managed to maintain his composure long enough to remove his hands from his mouth. "Perhaps you should practice the 'if you even think about getting out of that bed I will tie you down' look for the next time you push Elladan off a cliff."  
  
"How many times must I tell you, it was Elrohir." Legolas wasn't sure how to react to this. Not only did these humans know the sons of Elrond, but they spoke of them as if they knew them well.  
  
"Then why does Elladan still blame you?" Halbarad asked.  
  
"Because apparently I'm the better liar."  
  
"What?" Legolas couldn't have put it better himself.  
  
"Apparently both Elrohir and I were equally convincing at saying that the other had done it. That meant that it must have been me because I'm better at lying when I do something wrong." That set Halbarad off laughing so much that he was rolling on the floor until he couldn't breathe.  
  
Legolas probably would have been laughing too, if he weren't too confused. And he didn't think his ribs would much like that treatment. But he didn't think it anywhere near as funny as Halbarad seemed to.  
  
By the time Halbarad had recovered it was growing lighter. The man packed up his things, tucking the letter and broach securely beneath his cloak. Aragorn embraced him.  
  
"Remember, say that it concerns Thrandulion."  
  
Halbarad nodded and then disappeared into the trees. Legolas sat staring at his new companion, curiosity burning inside him. Who was this man? And what was in that letter he'd written?  
  
***  
  
Author's note: Grrr! No cliffhanger! I'll have to give you an especially evil one next chapter.  
  
Sorry to all those people who thought the man was Aragorn, but I did bring Aragorn into the story. You shouldn't assume anything when I'm writing. 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: I apologise for the slight delay. OK, maybe not so slight. If it helps stop complaints, I'd like to say that one of the things that's delayed this update is me learning how to use a sword and a pole axe. I may not be very good yet, but I'm sure anyone who complains will find out first hand.  
  
***  
  
"Who are you?" Legolas asked as Aragorn took some fruit from his pack and handed Legolas an apple.  
  
"My name is Aragorn."  
  
"But who are you? You speak elvish, but you're no elf. You speak of the sons of Elrond as though you know them."  
  
"Of course I know them. I've spent most of my life in the same house as them. My father died when I was so young I don't remember him, and my mother took me to Rivendell. She thought it was best if I grew up under Lord Elrond's protection. Unfortunately, he didn't protect me from the twin demons known as Elladan and Elrohir." Legolas would have been angry at him for referring to elves as demons, if he didn't know the twins well enough to know it was an accurate description at times.  
  
He'd only met the sons of Elrond a handful of times, and couldn't imagine how it must be to live with them. Rather he could imagine it, he just didn't dare. The thought was too horrific to contemplate.  
  
"It seems strange that Lord Elrond would shelter humans," Legolas mused.  
  
"Why? He is half-human after all."  
  
Legolas didn't say what he had always thought, which was that Elrond had chosen immortality and therefore must be trying to forget his weaker, human side. He didn't think such a reply would be very well received by the human who's mercy he was at. So far he had been kind, but insulting his people might change that.  
  
"And who's your friend?"  
  
"Halbarad is a ranger, one of my people. Many of my people travel to Rivendell often, so they speak elvish, but Halbarad never took the time to learn."  
  
"You've travelled far?"  
  
"I've roamed the lands west of the Misty Mountains and east of the sea all my life, though I've only occasionally travelled beyond those bounds."  
  
"So what are you doing here, west of Mirkwood?"  
  
"I decided to go somewhere I've not been before. One might ask what a prince of Mirkwood is doing alone outside his realm," Aragorn said.  
  
"The same thing that's driven you thus far, curiosity," Legolas said with a smile, "I've rarely been outside Mirkwood, and then only on journeys to Rivendell or the Long Lake. I decided to see what lay beyond Esgaroth, in the lands about which my people know little."  
  
"Where were you heading?"  
  
"I do not see that it is of any concern to you, human," Legolas said. The man shrugged, unconcerned, and turned to the fire.  
  
"I should probably take a look at your injuries," Aragorn went on, "Halbarad has some skill, but he has not had any experience healing elves."  
  
"And you have?"  
  
"I've lived in the same house as Elladan and Elrohir, that alone has given me a lot of practice." Legolas could well believe that, but he wasn't happy about allowing another human to inspect him. Aragorn might well be telling the truth about living in Rivendell, but he could just as easily be lying, creating a story so Legolas would let his guard down. You could never trust humans, Isilder had shown that long ago.  
  
"My wounds are healing," he said, "they need no more treatment from you."  
  
"And who trained you in healing?" Legolas couldn't answer that, because of course he was no healer. He found he had to submit to Aragorn's care.  
  
"In another day or so your leg will be strong enough for you to walk, but you should be careful of it for a while," Aragorn said, "your broken rib will take longer to heal, but you should be well enough to travel soon enough, though I'd recommend waiting a little longer."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because whoever did this to you might still be out there, and currently you're not in any condition to fight them should they come across you." Legolas hated to do so, but he had to admit the human was right. He didn't think he'd be able to fight a child in his present state, and the group who'd attacked him had been large and well-armed.  
  
"How did you come to be in this condition?" Aragorn asked.  
  
"I was ambushed," Legolas said, "by your kind. There were a lot of them, lying in wait in a rocky area, hidden from the path I was taking. One of them shot me in the leg, but I don't think he was aiming to kill." Legolas closed his eyes against the memory of the pain. "I think they were slavers, at least I caught a glimpse of prisoners in chains." Legolas remembered the look of terror on the faces of the prisoners. How could humans do this to their own kind? There had even been children.  
  
"Why do you do such things?" Legolas asked.  
  
"I don't," Aragorn replied, "There are good and evil people in all races."  
  
"Not among the elves. We would never enslave an innocent."  
  
"Perhaps not, but your kind have performed other crimes just as foul."  
  
"You know nothing, human, if you can call an elf evil."  
  
"Have you not learned your own history?" Aragorn asked, "Elves have killed those not only of their own race, but their own kin. Innocents."  
  
"I will not be taught elven lore by a human! You know nothing of the kinslaying!"  
  
"I know that elves are capable of cruel deeds as much as humans, or any other race on Middle Earth."  
  
"If you call me evil again it will be the last thing you do," Legolas said, his voice low and menacing.  
  
"I did not say that you were evil," Aragorn said unperturbed, "I merely stated that your kind are not so perfect as you would like to believe."  
  
"I do not think that we are perfect," Legolas responded, "but we are still the Eldar, and as such are better than your kind can ever hope to be."  
  
"And so wonderfully modest." Legolas glared. He was proud, but he had every reason to be. There was no sense in pretending that he wasn't better than this man in front of him, since he clearly was. Aragorn was just to stupid to see it.  
  
***  
  
Legolas was woken in the middle of the night, but Aragorn shaking him roughly.  
  
"Get up!" Aragorn commanded, "Get up!" Legolas was slow to comply, so Aragorn seized his arm and half-hauled him to his feet. His right leg protested to the movement, but it would now support some of his weight, meaning he no longer needed to hold onto something. He was grateful for that when the human shoved Legolas' bow and quiver into his hands. He also tossed him his long knife, which he quickly fastened to his waist.  
  
The human had an ash bow out, an arrow already set on a string. He was staring hard in one direction, though Legolas could see nothing.  
  
"What's happening?" he asked.  
  
"Some people are heading this way, and I very much doubt you want to be caught weaponless when they arrive."  
  
Sure enough, it wasn't long before he heard someone approaching. A moment later he changed that assessment, since he could clearly hear more than one person. He had his bow ready, aiming an arrow into the trees in the direction from which they were coming.  
  
As soon as the first one came into view, Legolas recognised the face. It was the man who had shot him. He was quick to return the favour, and even quicker to place a fresh arrow on the string as a large group of men charged from the trees. He kept firing swiftly, Aragorn doing the same beside him, but there were too many of them.  
  
It wasn't long before he had to abandon his bow and draw his long knife. He slashed at the first man to reach him, cutting through the flesh of his right arm. The man dropped the sword that he was holding, but he brought his left arm round to punch Legolas in the face. Legolas staggered back, and put a little too much weight on his right leg.  
  
With a cry of pain he fell to his knees as his leg gave out beneath him. It felt like stabs of fire were tearing into his muscle.  
  
But he couldn't think of the pain. He needed to concentrate on fight those who decided to take advantage of his position. He brought his knife up to block sword blows, but he couldn't defend from multiple attacks.  
  
A quick glance showed him that Aragorn was busy fighting too many enemies on his own to come to his aid. If Legolas had had the time, he might have wondered why the human was using a dagger, when his sword hung at his side undrawn. Instead Legolas concentrated on deflecting a blow that would have pierced his right shoulder, leaving him unable to fight.  
  
As he did so, something struck him on the back of the head. Dizzy and momentarily dazed, he fell forwards. Someone seized his wrist and yanked his knife from his grasp.  
  
Legolas struggled as his arms were pulled behind him, but the movement stretched his chest and caused his rib to protest in pain. He somehow kept himself from crying out as one of the men decided to limit his movements by sitting across his legs. His right leg flared in such agony that he could barely think of anything else.  
  
He tried to dislodge the man, but a fist struck him in the middle of his back, pressing his chest against the hard ground. The pain was too much. He was unconscious almost immediately.  
  
***  
  
Author's note: Yay! A cliffie! Review or I'll go fetch my sword.  
  
I know most of you are probably used to Legolas having two knives, but according to the book he only had one, so he's only got one in this story.  
  
Please review. 


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed. It's very much appreciated.  
  
***  
  
His chest seemed to be on fire. Strange. Shouldn't someone be putting the blaze out? Thoughts drifted vaguely through Legolas' foggy mind. His wrists felt cold though, too cold. Couldn't someone take the cold and put it in his chest?  
  
He breathed deeply, and instantly regretted it. Breathing wasn't meant to be this painful. He shifted slightly, and fire shot through his right leg.  
  
"Stay still," a voice murmured in quiet elvish close to his ear, "I'll not have you undo the hard work Halbarad and I did to put you back together the first time." Legolas realised he was sitting up, leaning against something, or someone. From the voice, he guessed it was a someone.  
  
He opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the bright light. It seemed to cut into his brain like a sharp knife, making his mind throb. A mass of blazing colour tore into his sight painfully. His thoughts were fuzzy, drifting around as though through fog. Distant.  
  
Blinking round, his vision cleared, though he almost wished he hadn't. He was in some sort of cart, though it was more like a cage on wheels. Bars were on all four sides and above, and crammed in around him were miserable looking people. In chains.  
  
That was the reason his wrists had felt so cold: metal manacles were clamped around his wrists and ankles, with short stretches of chain between them. Turning his head he saw he had been leaning against Aragorn's shoulder. The man appeared battered, his face a mass of bruises and a narrow tear in his shirt was stain with blood. But he was alive. For some reason Legolas was glad of that.  
  
"Where are we being taken?" Legolas asked.  
  
"We're heading west. It's my guess they're taking us to Rhun," Aragorn replied, "I don't think it would be a good idea for them to know who you are, so you'll forgive me if I don't use your title."  
  
Legolas nodded. The slight movement however made him feel dizzy and disorientated. He had a feeling he must have been struck over the head, but he didn't remember it happening.  
  
The next few days were terrible. They were cramped in the cage, and could see another like the one they were in equally full of slaves. They couldn't even stretch as the chains fastened to their wrists and ankles were also fixed to the bars of the cage. Each evening, when the slavers made camp, they would be allowed out briefly in small groups. They would walk a little and be given a small piece of bread and a little water. Clearly they felt hungry slaves who were less likely to escape were better than well fed ones who might fetch a higher price.  
  
That first evening, Legolas was let out first, while Aragorn remained chained inside the cage. The chains stayed on, meaning he could only walk in shuffling steps. His leg throbbed with pain, but he found he could walk on it easily enough. His chest still hurt, but that didn't limit his movement. If it weren't for the chains and the heavy guard he probably would have tried to escape then.  
  
Clutching his meagre supper he returned with the others to the cage. He watched as Aragorn left the cage along with a couple of other men and one child. Legolas knew little about humans, but he didn't think she could be more than five years old. As the slavers pushed her out the cage she began to wail loudly.  
  
"Shut up!" one of the slavers snapped angrily, but this just caused her to cry louder. "Shut up!" he said again, and raised a hand to strike her. Aragorn quickly seized the girl in his arms, lifting her up.  
  
"Leave her alone," he said, "can't you see she's terrified?"  
  
"You hold your tongue as well, or you'll lose it," the slaver threatened, brandishing a knife, "there are enough people out there with a taste for a mute." Aragorn fell silent, but he continued to glare the man down.  
  
Everyone was watching now. The slaver seemed to grow almost afraid, though Aragorn was in no position to fight. Legolas couldn't see the expression on Aragorn's face, but from the way the slaver was looking at him he was almost glad. The slaver quickly summoned a couple of his friends with a wave of his hand, and they shoved Aragorn firmly back into the cage.  
  
Aragorn let them do it, but he didn't relinquish his hold on the child, now sobbing quietly in his arms and clinging to him. Legolas wasn't quite sure if Aragorn was brave, or merely reckless.  
  
"Where is Mama?" the girl asked.  
  
"I don't know," Aragorn replied softly.  
  
"The men said they'd hurt me."  
  
"They won't, I won't let them."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"I promise." The girl smiled, and cuddled closer to Aragorn.  
  
"What's your name?" Aragorn asked.  
  
"Lenna."  
  
"I'm Aragorn."  
  
"Agorn?"  
  
"Close enough," Aragorn laughed.  
  
"I'm frightened, Agorn."  
  
"It's all right to be frightened, but I won't let anyone hurt you." Aragorn rocked her slightly, singing gently in elvish. His words were barely more than a whisper, but they soothed the girl into slumber.  
  
Legolas watched, smiling. Aragorn looked up, and caught his gaze.  
  
"Why are you grinning?" he asked.  
  
"I just didn't think you'd make such a good mother," Legolas said, "Agorn."  
  
Aragorn laughed, "I hope Elladan and Elrohir don't find out I've added another name to my collection."  
  
"Your collection?"  
  
"Aragorn, Estel, Strider, the Dunadain, Longshanks, Elessar. The list is almost endless."  
  
"You humans certainly are strange people," Legolas said.  
  
"So are you elves."  
  
Over the next couple of days, Legolas decided that humans were even stranger than he'd thought. The girl, Lenna, seemed to have adopted them. She was a sweet little child, and Legolas couldn't understand how the slavers couldn't see it. Were they so cruel that an infant was to them just a source of income?  
  
The worst thing about the situation was that Lenna couldn't seem to get her mouth round the name Legolas, and he acquired the name Leggy. He prayed constantly to the Valar that no one back home would ever find out, he didn't think his pride would bear it.  
  
"Leggy's got long legs," Lenna announced randomly. She prodded them for emphasis and then began a chant of, "Long legged Leggy, long legged Leggy," prodding his legs with each word. Legolas turned a pleading glance to Aragorn, who was busy trying not to laugh.  
  
"Lenna's got little legs," Aragorn said, "and little hands. I've got big hands, which are good for tickling little people." He began tickling her in the stomach until she shrieked and laughed.  
  
"Silence!" Aragorn ceased at the command of one of the slavers, riding beside the cage with a whip ready in his hand.  
  
"Bad men angry," whispered Lenna.  
  
"Bad men very angry," agreed Aragorn.  
  
"Don't bad men frighten you?" she asked.  
  
"I've seen far scarier things than the bad men," said Legolas.  
  
"Tell me." Lenna looked eagerly up at him, and he found he couldn't refuse.  
  
"Do you like spiders?" Lenna shook her head with a shudder. "Well, where I come from there are very big spiders, big enough to gobble up a little girl like Lenna." Lenna cuddled closer to Aragorn, but her wide eyes told Legolas she still wanted to hear the story. "We go out and we get rid of the spiders, but when I was little, my father told me I wasn't allowed to go. I was too young. I didn't listen, and I went off on my own. When I found the spiders, there were a lot of them, too many for me to handle. I thought I was going to die." Lenna's face, creased with worry and excitement stared up at him.  
  
"What happened then? How did you get away from the nasty spiders?"  
  
"Just then, my father came riding up. His expression was the scariest thing I've ever seen. He was so angry at me for not doing what I was told, that I would have rather faced a thousand spiders than him." He smiled, and Lenna laughed, but then her laugh turned to sadness.  
  
"I don't have a father," she said, "he went away a year ago, and Mama says he can't come back."  
  
"I don't have a father either," Aragorn said. Legolas suspected that Lenna's father was dead, but her mother didn't know how to explain it to such a young child.  
  
Without Lenna, the next few days would probably have been unbearable. Legolas found that keeping the young girl occupied kept his mind from the situation. Unfortunately, she found things about Legolas infinitely more fascinating than his apparently long legs.  
  
"Why are your ears funny?" she asked, fiddling with said ears in a way that made Legolas very uncomfortable.  
  
"Because I'm an elf."  
  
"What's a nelf?"  
  
"An elf is a person, but a different sort of person from you."  
  
"How are nelfs different?"  
  
While Legolas was trying to think of a way of explaining it that wouldn't insult the girl, Aragorn asked, "Do you know any other little girls?"  
  
"Yes. Mayn who lives next to me is a little girl, but she's not like me at all. She's naughty."  
  
"Elves are different from you or me in the same way that Mayn is different from you, but the differences are bigger."  
  
"Are nelves naughty?" Lenna asked, looking at Legolas with suspicion.  
  
"Most aren't," Aragorn said, "but I've known a few who are."  
  
"And who, pray, are they?" Legolas asked in an overly formal tone which emphasised his anger at this insult.  
  
"Elladan and Elrohir of course."  
  
"I don't think Lord Elrond would be pleased to hear his sons described in such a way."  
  
"Why? He's called them far worse himself."  
  
"Who's Lorel. . . Lord Er. . . Who are you talking about?"  
  
"Lord Elrond is a very important elf," Aragorn explained, "he's very old, very powerful and very wise."  
  
"Does he know everything?"  
  
"Most things, he just doesn't know how to make his sons behave properly."  
  
Legolas was quite fond of the little girl after four days of travelling with her. Cramped inside the cage, he and Aragorn took turns in telling stories for her amusement. Then, as the evening of the fourth day drew near, they saw that the road they were travelling approached buildings. They watched in silence as the buildings came closer and formed a town. A high wall, with only a few buildings outside it, hid all but the roofs of the town behind. A strong gate stared menacingly down on the road, and small figures of guards stood over it.  
  
"I think we've arrived."  
  
***  
  
Author's note: Tolkien doesn't say much about Rhun, but since they joined forces with Sauron I'm guessing it's the sort of place that would have slaves. And Aragorn did mention that he'd been there, so I figured I could make a load of stuff up and I wouldn't be contradicting the book. 


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: Sorry I'm a little slow in updating. Now I've got to think of an excuse. The dog ate it? No, that's been used before. It was like that when I got here? No.  
  
I've got it, a group of aliens beamed me up and said they needed my help because another alien race were going to wipe them out unless they told their leader a story, and the race that beamed me up were all accountants and didn't know how to tell stories, so they needed me. That's why I'm late.  
  
Honest.  
  
***  
  
The area they were taken to was clearly a market place. A long walkway, between two fences was designed for the slaves to paraded down and at the end a stage stood for auctions.  
  
The cages stopped in clear view of these things. Lenna looked fearfully at them.  
  
"Will they take me away from you?" Lenna asked.  
  
"They may try," Aragorn said. The implication was that they wouldn't manage it, but Legolas noted he didn't say that. He didn't want to be a liar, and he knew they may well separate them.  
  
The next morning, Lenna's fears were proved true. As they were shoved from the cages, a crowd of potential buyers watching carefully, Aragorn held her tightly in his arms, despite the chains.  
  
They were guided along the walkway, men with whips on either side of the fences in case they slowed. Legolas pulled his hair down to cover his ears, though he knew it to be a futile attempt to hide his race. The eager crowds sickened him. They were looking at them as though they were nothing, as though they meant nothing.  
  
How could any living creature do this to another? Anger surged through him, and he found his hands clenching of their own accord. He kept his head bent, knowing he could do nothing at the moment, knowing he couldn't let the slavers see what he wanted to do to them. He wished he had an army of elven warriors at hand so he could show these humans how he truly felt about slavery.  
  
As they were herded out of the walkway and made to line up on the stage, Legolas noticed a man in the crowd looking in their direction. As he watched, the man walked up to one of the slavers. After a brief conversation and a leather bag changing hands, the man signalled to a handful of men, all dressed in black uniforms and bearing an emblem of fire.  
  
He stood before Aragorn, his men around him, and Legolas thought he saw something in Aragorn's eyes. Recognition? Fear?  
  
"You will wish you'd suffered your father's fate by the time I'm through with you," the man said quietly.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Aragorn responded. Legolas had had only a little experience with humans, but even he knew he was lying. One of the uniformed men seized Lenna violently and tore her from Aragorn's arms. She gave a cry of pain and fear as she was flung to the floor.  
  
Legolas acted on instinct, lifting the child into his own arms, cradling her. Her head was pressed against his chest so she didn't see as the man who'd spoken to Aragorn buried his fist as far back into his stomach as it would go. Then with a wave of his hand he signalled the uniformed men to grab hold of him and haul him away, before he could recover from the blow.  
  
Legolas could do nothing but watch.  
  
***  
  
Aragorn breathed through the pain as yet another blow landed. This was going to be a very, very bad day. A fist struck his stomach again, hitting the bruises from the multiple strikes he'd already received. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out, but he couldn't clench his teeth against the pain.  
  
He had been hauled from the slave pens and auction stages, held firmly by two men, each stronger than he was. The others walked in a close guard around, and those who held him hadn't taken much care to stop him from stumbling, enjoying hitting him when he slowed or fell.  
  
His legs, cramped from lack of use in the cage, ached and throbbed and now a large portion of his body was decorated with bruises. He'd tried to remember the way he'd been taken, the streets used. It looked as though the people in this town didn't care much for making it attractive. At last they came to a house. Although house didn't seem quite fitting. Perhaps fortress would be a better description.  
  
A high wall with a battlement looked down on the street, and narrow slits allowed archers to shoot through. A gate of heavy wood was guarded by men in black uniforms bearing the emblem of the fire. And carved into the stone above the gate was that same symbol. Glancing back as they passed through the gate, he saw that there were slits this side for the archers as well.  
  
A wide space, devoid of cover, led up to the house. It was a large building, rectangular and adorned only with the symbol of fire above the building's only door. Here again were the signs of a fortress prepared for attack. Spear men on either side of the door saluted as the man who'd bought Aragorn led the way up the steps and into the building.  
  
Guards were inside, well armed and attentive. They looked at Aragorn with unconcealed curiosity and malice. Aragorn didn't like the look of the expressions they send each other, the cruel smiles. But he didn't have time to think on this.  
  
The man who now owned Aragorn turned to face him. Those holding him shoved him violently forward. He fell, throwing his hands out break his fall. A heavy boot seized the opportunity to press down on his figures.  
  
"A fitting welcome to my home, son of Arathorn."  
  
Aragorn raised his eyes to look at the man in front of him. He'd only been a boy when he'd seen him last, but it was him. Ackeran. And this time Lord Elrond wouldn't be able to step in for his defence.  
  
"I never thought I'd have you in my grasp again, son of Arathorn," Ackeran said. Aragorn guessed by the fact he used his lineage rather than his name that he didn't know it. Certainly, when Aragorn had seen him last he'd still been called Estel, unaware of his heritage.  
  
"You never had me in the first place."  
  
"Perhaps not. Your precious elves stopped me, but not this time. That elf by your side didn't seem to anxious to help." Aragorn remained silent. If Ackeran learned that the elf was a prince, he'd pay thousands to have him and use him against Mirkwood. Aragorn had never been to Mirkwood and from Elladan and Elrohir's descriptions he didn't want to, but it was still home to elves and a kingdom he couldn't betray without hurting those who'd sheltered him ever since he was a child.  
  
"I will make you suffer for everything your father did to me," Ackeran continued.  
  
"What about what you did to him?" Aragorn snapped without thinking. The anger against this man still filled him. He didn't remember his father, never had the chance to know him, because of this man.  
  
The boot removed itself from his fingers, and a hard kick was delivered to his side, followed by another and another. As he braced himself for the next kick, hands grabbed his shoulders and he was pulled off the floor slightly.  
  
He had time to glimpse something grey and circular when it was pressed around his neck and snapped closed with a click. As the hands released him and he fell to the floor once more, he reached up and touched it. An iron collar was locked around his neck, and his searching fingers found a raised pattern on the front.  
  
The sign of fire.  
  
"You are mine, son of Arathorn," Ackeran said, "that collar will never come off. You will be mine for the rest of your days. Enjoy them."  
  
***  
  
Author's note: I didn't mean for it to be another 'Legolas gets the girl' fic, but I couldn't leave Lenna lying on the ground now, could I?  
  
As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed. It's greatly appreciated, keep it up. 


	8. Chapter 8

Legolas stood in the centre of the stage, still holding Lenna tightly in his arms. She clung to him, thin arms entwine round his neck, as though afraid that to let go for even a moment would be to lose him.   
  
Below the stage voices were calling out bids, but Legolas had ceased to listen. This crying out for flesh disgusted him. He just held onto Lenna and prayed to the Valar that they would let her stay with him. She'd lost her freedom and her family, she needed someone who was there for her.   
  
Finally someone made the highest bid, and the slavers pushed Legolas down from the stage, Lenna still in his arms. So they were letting her stay with him. Once down, two men stepped up to him, each taking hold of an arm. They wore uniforms similar to the men who had taken Aragorn, except that instead of fire their emblem was of a red rose.   
  
Another man stepped up to Legolas. He had a collar round his neck, the front of which was marked with the same rose symbol. After looking Legolas up and down, he smiled.   
  
"The mistress will be pleased with you," he said, "Come." The two uniformed men didn't give him much choice. Legolas walked awkwardly, hampered by the chains, while Lenna whimpered into his neck.   
  
They walked through city streets. Legolas noted the large number of what seemed to be guards around here. Only a different emblem separated the guards out. They came shortly to a house, surrounded by a high wall, which was guarded as well. He considered trying to run, but with the chains an escape would be difficult. Besides, he had Lenna to think about.   
  
He was taken through the gate and into the house. A woman, richly dressed, stood in the hall. She smiled when she saw Legolas.   
  
"You've done well, Emerin," she said.  
  
"Thank you, mistress," the man with the collar said. Legolas guessed the collar meant he was a slave, because the lady walked up to him holding one.   
  
"If you obey my orders, you will be treated well," she told him, "if not you will be punished harshly. This applies to your daughter as well." Legolas tried not to let his surprise at that comment show on his face.   
  
The mistress held up the collar and Legolas tried to pull away from the men holding him. He couldn't break free though, before she snapped the thing shut around his neck.   
  
"I will forgive you this one transgression," she said, "but any more and you will learn that I do not take disobedience lightly." She turned to Emerin, "Show him where he will sleep and begin instructing him in his duties."   
  
The guards released Legolas, and Emerin touched his arm gently. "This way," he said, and walked into the house. When Legolas didn't move to followed, Emerin looked back, "She means what she says about punishments."   
  
Legolas followed Emerin through a small door and up a narrow staircase. It climbed a long way, probably to the very top of the house. A corridor as narrow as the staircase was at the top, with doors leading off either side. Emerin opened one and let Legolas in. A small, lumpy mattress lay by the back wall and beside it was a lump of wood with a candle on. There was nothing else in the room, which was a good thing since it was crowded enough already.   
  
"This is where you will both sleep. As for your duties, the mistress will expect you to wait on her as a personal slave. You will serve her meals, and be at hand throughout the day for whatever she might need."   
  
"That is all?" Legolas couldn't voice what he'd feared she would ask because of Lenna, but he'd seen the way she'd looked at him and knew that humans would probably find him attractive.   
  
"She considers it beneath her station to ask a slave to perform such duties that others might expect of one with your looks," Emerin said, clearly seeing what Legolas though.   
  
"What duties?" a quiet voice piped up. Legolas lowered Lenna to the ground and knelt in front of her.   
  
"You're too young to be told," he said.   
  
"I'm not little," she protested, "Mama says I'm a big girl."  
  
"Yes, you're a big girl," Legolas said, "but you have to be a very, very big girl to know this."   
  
"You're not a very, very big girl." Legolas heard a soft chuckle from Emerin, and turned to glare at him. "Tell me."   
  
"Valar, protect me from inquisitive children," Legolas muttered under his breath.   
  
Divine intervention didn't seem to be forthcoming though as Lenna asked, "Who's Valar?"   
  
***  
  
Aragorn was strapped down on a wooden bench. He'd been stripped of his shirt, revealing the rather interesting colours his abdomen had changed to. Now he could do nothing but lie there in the dark. Waiting.   
  
At last the door opened and Ackeran entered, followed by a man in the guard uniform. The guard held a knife.   
  
"Now, son of Arathorn," Ackeran said, "It's time you started paying for your father's sins."   
  
"What did he do to you?" Aragorn asked. The guard struck his face, knocking his head back into the bench.   
  
"It's not your place to ask questions."   
  
"Where should I ask questions then?" Aragorn received another blow for that. Somehow he had the feeling this occasion would be worse than his previous encounter with Ackeran.   
  
"I will leave you in Macran's capable hands," Ackeran said, nodding to the guard, now holding the knife menacingly, and turned to leave.   
  
"If you're going to hurt me then do it yourself!" Aragorn yelled. Ackeran didn't turn to him.   
  
"You are not in a position to make demands," he said in a voice that shook. With anger? Or something else? With that he left, and Macran smiled cruelly down at Aragorn. He spun the knife by its hilt and then let it drop.   
  
Aragorn bit back a cry as the knife sliced through the skin of his left side and embedded itself in the wooden surface of the bench. The blade had been dropped skilfully, leaving only a shallow cut in his skin. Either that or Macran had dropped it by accident and Aragorn just been lucky as to where it fell.   
  
Macran tore it free, and again Aragorn had to bite back a cry. He tried to close his mind to the pain as the knife dropped again, slicing his skin like butter and letting his warm blood flow free. He would find a way out of here. He'd be free again.   
  
Somehow.   
  
As Macran cut a gash across Aragorn's already abused stomach, a gasp of pain escaped Aragorn's lips. Macran smiled.   
  
"That's much better. I like it when my subjects aren't too quiet."   
  
"You do this a lot then?" Aragorn asked.   
  
"Oh yes, I'm very good at my job."   
  
Aragorn could well believe as time stretched on and the pain transformed into agony. His chest and sides were adorned with minor cuts, all of which closed to fast for him to lose much blood. That didn't stop them hurting though, as Macran pressed his fingers against them.   
  
Aragorn didn't scream though. He did all he could to remain silent, and prevent Macran having any satisfaction. Macran however seemed to be enjoying himself anyway.   
  
At last he left, and Aragorn allowed his mind to drift off into something between slumber and unconsciousness. He became partially aware as he felt a stinging pain in his side. A thousand needles pressed against his skin.   
  
Instinctively, he tried to pull away from the touch, his eyes still closed in some small hope of sleep. A soothing hand softly brushed his hair from his forehead and a gentle voice close to his ear whispered, "Be calm. Sleep safe tonight, little hope."   
  
***  
  
Author's note: More Lenna cuteness because of popular demand. Please keep up with your reviewing and I'll keep up with my writing. 


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: All delays are to be blamed on the fact that I moved house. We have only just got the computer working, and I've been very busy. We're converting a barn so there's a lot of work to do.   
  
I'll try and find time to write more though.   
  
***  
  
"But you said you wouldn't go," Lenna complained.   
  
"I'll be back," Legolas said, "I promise. But now I have to go otherwise these people will be nasty to us. Now go with this lady and do what she tells you. I'll see you soon enough. Be good, Lenna."   
  
Legolas was about to go, when he found Lenna's arms round him. He hadn't much experience with children and so wasn't sure how to react. Hugging her back seemed the only way. After a few moments he pried her arms from his legs and sent her with the lady.   
  
Legolas went with Emerin. He had explained what would be expected of him. He was to prepare his mistress's bath, then wake her. While she bathed he would lay out clothes for her. Then once she was dressed he would stand behind her and serve her through breakfast.   
  
During the morning she would normally spend time in her private rooms. Legolas was to wait by the door and fetch anything she called for. Then he would serve her again at lunch. She would often go out in the afternoon. If she walked, Legolas would carry a shade to protect her from sun or rain. If she went in a carriage he must sit up front and go with her. Whether he would remain with her at wherever she went would depend on the circumstances.   
  
Then he would be expected to serve her at dinner. Afterwards he was to prepare a bath and lay out her sleeping gown. He would then be allowed to take some supper himself and go to bed.   
  
He'd already eaten his breakfast. It hadn't been fancy, but it had been enough. Clearly his new owner liked to keep her slaves healthy, and Legolas' tasks weren't going to be arduous. He just hoped Lenna would behave herself. She might easily begin talking when she wasn't allowed to or ask impertinent questions of one who was supposedly her superior.   
  
He knew he shouldn't care, since she was only a human, but he didn't want anything to happen to the child. She deserved better than slavery and when he found a way out of this place he would be taking her with him.   
  
The day was drearily dull to Legolas. There were many occasions where he longed to yell at his 'mistress' and say he wouldn't do the things she asked. But he held his tongue. There was no sense in letting his pride get him killed. He would be on the lookout for an escape route.   
  
His serving was an act. He wasn't really submitting to her. At least that was what he tried to convince himself. As soon as there was a reasonable chance that he could get away he would do so.   
  
While serving breakfast, he leaned forwards to reach one of the dishes and the hair that had been covering his ears fell forwards, revealing the pointed tips. He only realised what had happened when he stood straight again and saw that she was looking at him.   
  
"You are an elf," she said. It wasn't a question so Legolas didn't reply. "Then the child is not your daughter?"   
  
"I am her guardian," Legolas replied. In a sense it was true, even though no parent or relative had appointed him to the task.   
  
"I am surprised," she said, "From what I have heard of your barbarian kind I never thought you would care for a human child."   
  
The sensible part of his mind was telling him to remain silent. Unfortunately, his pride took over on her insult and overruled sense.   
  
"My people are not barbarians," he said, his voice cold with anger.   
  
"Do not contradict me!"   
  
But Legolas' pride and temper had full control now, despite his brain protesting that it might be a good idea to be silent. "My people are more civilised than yours," Legolas said, "for we do not enslave our own. If you wish to see a barbarian I suggest you look in the mirror."   
  
Her blow was just a stinging slap across Legolas' face. It caused no serious pain, and did no good as a warning. If anything, it just increased the coldly burning anger that fuelled his voice.   
  
"An elf would not be punished for speaking the truth. It shows how uncivilised you are if you consider truthfulness a crime."   
  
"Guards!" In an instant two strong looking men stood in the doorway. "Take this slave and beat him until he learns some respect."   
  
"I show respect to those who deserve it," Legolas retorted as the men seized his arms and began dragging him from the room.   
  
***  
  
Aragorn closed his eyes as though that would shut out the pain. It had been administered carefully and purposefully. Macran had begun with his chest and sides, and was now working his way methodically up his left arm. It was now adorned with minor cuts. Thin needles pierced his skin and muscles.   
  
He thought there was some sort of poison on the needles, judging from the pain that seemed to be spreading slowly from his arm into the rest of his body. By now his left arm was completely useless, even if it hadn't been strapped down.   
  
His limbs were aching from being kept still for so long. He didn't even know how long he'd been left like this. A day, he guessed, but he couldn't be sure. He wondered why they were starting with his left arm. It would make more sense to start with his right, or his legs, making escape impossible. He supposed Ackeran thought there was no chance of his escaping anyway.   
  
He hoped he could use that arrogance against him, but from what he'd seen it was more than just arrogance. He didn't think he had much chance of an escape.   
  
He lay back, trying to remember his last encounter with Ackeran. It was difficult, he'd been very young at the time and much of the memory was coloured by discussions he'd had with Lord Elrond afterwards. But still there was something that didn't seem right about this situation, and he couldn't place the voice he'd heard when he was barely conscious.   
  
The door opened again and a guard entered followed by Ackeran. The guard had a sword at his side, and Ackeran held a whip, but otherwise there were no weapons. Ackeran said nothing, but gave the guard a nod.   
  
At this signal the guard released Aragorn from his bonds. He struggled, but his useless left arm and the ever increasing pain meant there was little he could do. The guard pulled him to his feet and towards a set of chains hanging from the wall.   
  
Aragorn managed to give his captor one good punch and a few more feeble blows before he was chained up securely. A moment of struggling against the chains told him that there was no way he was getting out until someone let him.   
  
So he stood.   
  
His face might be towards the wall but his back was held straight and his head erect. He wouldn't let Ackeran see the pain he was feeling. He would hold himself proud, as a son of kings and a ranger of the north. He would not be tortured into submission.   
  
"You suggested that I should hurt you," Ackeran said, "so I decided to do what you asked." There was a sneer to the voice and Aragorn wanted nothing more than to hit that man in the face. The man who was responsible for his father's death.   
  
"Ackeran betrayed your father."   
  
He heard the swish of the whip, and the pain cut into his back. He didn't cry out though. After what Ackeran had done to him and his family he would give him no satisfaction.   
  
The whip swung again, and again. Aragorn bit his lip to keep from screaming and the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. But still he did not cry out.   
  
The pain filled his back, mingling with the agony of his arm and spawning little children that shot through the rest of his body on fiery feet. He allowed his shoulders to slump and hung from the chains. He allowed his left wrist to take most of his weight, ignoring the pain that seared through his shoulder and up to his wrist. He wanted to make sure his right arm remained uninjured. At last he dropped his head and hung motionless, his eyes closed.   
  
He was remembering Lord Elrond's startling declaration and what Ackeran had said afterwards. He needed to know.   
  
He made no sound or movement as the whip swung one last time and Ackeran told the guard to let him down. The guard released his right wrist first, and Aragorn let it fall limp, feigning unconsciousness. The pain was enough that lesser men might already be out from it, but he was not a lesser man.   
  
The instant his left arm was free he moved.   
  
His feet took his weight and his right arm swung round to knock the guard against the wall. As he slumped down unconscious, Aragorn grabbed the man's sword. He wasn't anywhere near his usual strength, and that single blow shouldn't have been enough to knock anyone out.   
  
He didn't have time to worry about that though. Ackeran's whip caught him around the legs, causing him to stumble and almost fall. Almost. He kept upright, and knocked Ackeran to the ground, the whip flying from his hand and skidding across the floor.   
  
A moment later the sword was pressed against Ackeran's throat.   
  
"Well?" Ackeran asked at last, "Do you mean to kill me?"   
  
"No."   
  
***  
  
Author's note: Bet you didn't see that one coming. 


	10. Chapter 10

Author's note: Anything in italics is a flashback.   
  
***  
  
Estel kicked idly at stones as he walked beneath the trees. Elladan had been yelling at him again, calling him a human as though it were an insult. He thought he wasn't good enough to be in Rivendell. Maybe he was right. Estel wasn't fast enough, quiet enough, graceful enough. Everything he did made him seem less than those around him.   
  
"Hello." Estel, who had been staring at his feet, now looked up. He hadn't noticed the man in front of him, and again couldn't help but think that an elf would have known he was there ages ago.   
  
"I'm surprised to see a human here. Are you travelling with your family?"   
  
"No, I live here. I'm Estel."   
  
"That doesn't sound like a human name. Is that what your father calls you?"   
  
"It's what Lord Elrond calls me. I don't have a father."   
  
"But you must have had one. What did he call you?"  
  
"I don't know."   
  
"It sounds to me like Lord Elrond is hiding things from you.   
  
***  
  
"Lord Elrond?"   
  
"Yes, Estel?"   
  
"What did my father call me?" Estel saw the surprised look on the elf's face, but didn't understand it. He also didn't understand why Lord Elrond didn't answer his question.   
  
"Why do you ask?"  
  
"I was just thinking. Estel's an elf name, not human." Estel didn't tell him about the man in the woods. As far as he was concerned, if Lord Elrond was hiding things from him, it was only fair if he did the same.   
  
"It's not what your father named you. But until you're older, I do not feel it wise to tell you your true name."   
  
***  
  
"He doesn't think I'm old enough!" Estel snapped angrily. He was with the man again, and had learned that his name was Ackeran.   
  
"Well, elves live for so long that their children grow up more slowly. Lord Elrond probably is comparing you to an elf. He doesn't know enough about humans to know that you're old enough to be given responsibility."   
  
"It still doesn't mean he should hide things from me."  
  
"I haven't been entirely honest with you," Ackeran said, "and I've no such excuse. I knew your father, and I know your name. You are Aragorn, son of Arathorn, more important among humans than Lord Elrond is among elves."   
  
Estel tried to understand what he'd just been told. His mother was just a sad memory, and he had no memory at all of his father. To learn that this man in front of him knew his father was too much to take in. "But. . . I. . ."   
  
"I didn't tell you at first because I wanted to do what was best for you. I thought that if you were happy here, it would be best to leave it that way. But since you are obviously not, I should tell you that your father often expressed a wish that I look after you if anything happened to him."   
  
"Really?"   
  
"Your father cared about you greatly, he wanted to make sure that you would be safe no matter what."   
  
"With you?"  
  
"If that's what you want. It's your choice. But I wouldn't tell the elves. They won't understand that you're old enough to decide for yourself and will try and make the decision for you. Let's keep it our little secret until you're ready." Estel swelled with pride that this man thought him old enough to choose his own life.   
  
That alone almost made the decision for him. But at the same time he was afraid of leaving the only place he could remember calling home. Ackeran must have seen the hesitation.   
  
"I don't expect you to decide at once. Take as much time as you need, I'll be waiting."   
  
***  
  
Estel climbed out of his bedroom window. Lord Elrond hadn't considered this when deciding part of the boy's punishment should include locking him in his room until he apologised. Estel didn't see why he should apologise. Elrohir deserved everything he got.   
  
He picked up his bag from where he'd dropped it since even Glorfindel would struggle climbing down with that in his hands. He thought he'd been very clever in packing some spare clothes and some food, because he wasn't sure how much Ackeran would have to spare. He just wished he'd packed some things that were a bit lighter.   
  
He made his way carefully to their tree. It had previously been his tree, but he'd shown it to Ackeran and the man had been pleased. It was easy to climb and dense foliage meant that even an elf couldn't see someone in it. He'd liked to hide up there whenever Elladan and Elrohir were mean to him.   
  
It was already dark, the sun having set a short while ago, and in the deepening dusk Estel began to struggle to see where he was going. At last he tripped on a tree root and would have fallen if a hand hadn't come out of nowhere and caught him.   
  
As he turned to see Ackeran he exclaimed in surprise, "You're as quiet as an elf!"   
  
"Not quite," Ackeran laughed, "but my people, and yours, are skilled at going quietly." He looked at the bag Estel held, a strangely intense expression of joy filled his face. "I see you've made your decision." Estel nodded. "Good, then we should leave quickly before someone decides to change your mind for you."   
  
Estel wanted to say that he was tired, but he'd seen how happy his choice made Ackeran feel, and he didn't want to change that. He liked Ackeran.   
  
***  
  
Estel woke shaking from some nightmare that faded so quickly he couldn't remember it moments later. He felt comforting arms around him, and a voice murmured, "It's alright, little Hope, you're safe."   
  
Estel clung onto Ackeran, but thoughts and memories slowly filled him, driving away the last remnants of the nightmare. He remembered Lord Elrond holding him after a fever, calling him just that. Little Hope had been an affectionate term that should belong to just him.   
  
Estel began to feel guilty about leaving. He had been angry with Lord Elrond, but he did care about him. He was probably so worried about him. Estel wondered if he should have written a note, explaining that he was with a friend of his father and would be safe.   
  
Elladan and Elrohir were probably already searching the woods around Rivendell for him, afraid he had fallen in a hole or encountered some fierce animal. He knew now that Lord Elrond was right, he shouldn't have burned the letter from that elf maid Elrohir liked. He'd just been so angry, and in the morning light he couldn't even remember why.   
  
He felt Ackeran's arms around him, but wished for more familiar ones.   
  
"I'm sorry," he muttered.   
  
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Ackeran said, his face all kindness.   
  
"Yes there is," Estel said, "I was wrong. I was wrong to come with you. Rivendell is my home. I'm sorry, Ackeran, but I have to go back."   
  
"Why?" Ackeran demanded, an anger that almost frightened Estel in his eyes.   
  
"It's where I belong."   
  
Estel stood up, but Ackeran caught his arm in a painful grip.   
  
"You lied to me! You said you'd come with me!"   
  
"I was angry and I made a mistake. Let go of me." Estel really was frightened now, the fierceness nothing like the kind man he'd come to like.   
  
"How would your father like you if he knew you were a liar?"   
  
"I didn't lie. Let go, you're hurting me."   
  
"I suggest you do as he says." Estel twisted round as far as he could at that familiar voice. Elladan and Elrohir both stood under the shadow of the trees. Bows were strung and arrows aimed at Ackeran. They must have thought he'd been kidnapped, he realised.   
  
"Don't hurt him," Estel protested, remembering the gentle smiles that Ackeran usually wore.   
  
"He deserves no less than death," Elladan said, "he is the reason your father is dead." The grip on Estel's arm vanished instantly, and Estel stared at Ackeran.   
  
The man sank to the ground, all traces of anger gone. Estel didn't notice the shocked and haunted look on his face, thinking only that Ackeran had lied to him. He didn't make any move towards the two elves.   
  
"Estel, come," Elrohir ordered. Still Estel didn't move, "Estel, he's dangerous. He betrayed your father to the orcs." Feeling betrayed himself, Estel ran and through his arms round Elrohir, barely hearing Ackeran's whispered denial.   
  
"Have you been hurt?" Elladan asked Estel.   
  
"No, he's been kind to me." Elladan looked in surprise at the man who was kneeling on the rough ground, his hair covering his face as he bent forwards, shoulders shaking with sobs.   
  
"Let's go home," Elrohir said softly.   
  
"What about. . ." Elladan began.   
  
"Leave him be," Elrohir replied, watching the wrecked man sobbing at the past.   
  
***  
  
"Well," Ackeran asked, "Do you mean to kill me?"  
  
"No," Aragorn replied, "I want answers. I want to know why you betrayed my father, and why you tried to kidnap me when I was a boy. You were supposed to be my father's friend, his second in command."   
  
"I was. I cared about your father more than anyone else in the world."   
  
"Then why did you betray him?"   
  
"I didn't know," Ackeran's voice almost broke from tears unshed, "I spoke of his plans to another. I didn't know he was a spy."   
  
"You're saying you didn't betray him?"   
  
Ackeran shook his head. "I betrayed him. He told his plans to me in confidence, and asked that I tell no one. I think he suspected a traitor among his people."   
  
Aragorn had lowered the sword by now. He thought he could see the way the pieces fit together: the tale Lord Elrond had told him, Ackeran's actions both when he was a boy and now.   
  
"I spoke of Arathorn's plans when I should not have done. When I heard about the orc attack I hurried to his side. Elrond was there, trying to heal him. Arthorn looked at me and asked why I had betrayed him." Tears filled Ackeran's eyes but still did not fall. "He died before I could ask his forgiveness."   
  
"So you tried to take me in, hoping that in raising me and protecting me you would earn some measure of that forgiveness." Ackeran nodded.   
  
Aragorn looked down at the sword he held. His escape from his restraints had been too easy, his sword arm left untouched. "And when you couldn't find forgiveness, you sought death. You wanted to die by my hand."   
  
***  
  
Author's note: Sorry, Karone Evertree and Avari, about the lack of Legolas in this chapter, but I just had to give a bit of explanation about Aragorn's side of the story. There will be more Legolas in the next chapter. 


	11. Chapter 11

Author's note: Sorry I've been so long updating, school's been getting the best of me. Speaking of school, I'm doing an English project for my A-level on the language of rejection and I need rejection letters. If anyone has one I could use, I'd be extremely grateful if you'd type or preferably scan it in and send it to me (obviously deleting names, addresses and personal details). I'd welcome them on any subject.   
  
  
  
If you send them, I wouldn't have to spend quite so long searching for suitable material and might be able to spend more time writing this. (By the way, that's a hint)  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Legolas hissed in pain as Emerin rubbed something into the cuts on his back. According to Emerin it would quicken healing, but Legolas wished in didn't sting quite so much. His back was burning with pain from the whip welts and the man's hands pressing against them did nothing to help with that.   
  
  
  
"Leggy!" Lenna ran into the room, a grin on her face as she almost tripped over the bundle of cloth in her arms. "Look, Leggy!" Legolas wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking at, but he reached out to take the cloth from her. She was beaming with pride as he examined a rather uneven row of stitches fixing a tear.   
  
  
  
"Did you do this yourself?" he asked. She nodded, her grin growing wider. "It's very good," he said, and was amazed the top of her head wasn't falling off her smile was now so wide. Legolas was smiling too, her joy contagious.   
  
  
  
Then he hissed in pain again as Emerin rubbed more of his concoction into his wounded back. Lenna looked at him in puzzlement.   
  
  
  
"What's wrong, Leggy?" she asked.   
  
  
  
"The people were nasty to me," he said.   
  
  
  
"Weren't you a good boy?" Legolas was sure he could hear Emerin struggling not to laugh behind him, but decided now would not be a good time to take him to task over it.   
  
  
  
"No, Lenna, I wasn't a good boy." Lenna tried to see his back, but Emerin held out a hand to stop her.   
  
  
  
"No, child, you shouldn't see this. Go put your work away, you can see Leggy later." Lenna nodded reluctantly and then left. Legolas was glad, she was too young to see the mess his back was in.   
  
  
  
"You should be more careful," Emerin told him, as he finished what he was doing and handed Legolas a clean shirt, "our mistress is kind to those who serve her well but she has a temper."   
  
  
  
"She is not my mistress," Legolas replied, "I served my king and no one else."   
  
  
  
"Now you must serve her, or you will suffer far worse than a beating."   
  
  
  
"It is very well for you to say that," Legolas told him, "but that's not something that I can do.   
  
  
  
"Don't think that I enjoy my life here," Emerin said, "I was taken from my wife and my baby girl four years ago, and don't even know if they're alive."   
  
  
  
Legolas looked at Emerin through new eyes. He hadn't thought before that the slaves here might have families, or be suffering as he was. He thought of how he wished to return to his father, and felt a connection he'd never thought possible with a human.   
  
  
  
"If I find a way out of here," Legolas said, "I give you my word that I will help you return to your wife and daughter."   
  
  
  
"I doubt you will have that chance," Emerin said, "but I thank you anyway." Legolas was unable to say any more to him because Emerin was called away by a softly chiming bell. A signal, he had learned, that his 'mistress' wanted attention.   
  
  
  
Legolas followed the man out with his gaze, thinking about how terrible it must be for him. Four years. He imagined being away from his home and family for as long and shuddered at the thought, sending a spasm of pain down his back.   
  
  
  
Standing carefully, he made his way across the room in the direction Lenna had taken. The little girl seemed unaware of the danger she was in, yet she must be missing her mother terribly. It had never occurred to Legolas before that humans might have feelings as acute as elves'. He began to wonder what else hadn't occurred to him.   
  
  
  
According to Emerin he wouldn't be sent for by his 'mistress' until the next day in the hope that he would learn his lesson. That meant, so he thought, that he would have the rest of the day to recover from his lashes. Unfortunately, the other slaves didn't agree with that.   
  
  
  
A bossy, middle-aged woman who had most of the younger slaves in fear of her, shoved Legolas firmly towards a large sink and instructed him to wash dishes. His first thought was one of shame as he wondered what his father would think of this situation. His second was one of amazement as he realised just how many dishes there were to wash. Surely one lady and her slaves couldn't create this much mess?   
  
  
  
Half an hour later he had barely made an impact on the huge pile, and was beginning to wonder if the servants at home had to do this much work. After all, there were far more people living in the palace at home. He decided if he got back he'd show them some more courtesy. Normally he barely noticed they were there.   
  
  
  
He suddenly realised just what he'd thought. No, it wasn't if he got back. He was going to get home, it was just a matter of time.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Aragorn's wounds were beginning to hurt considerably. He looked at the man in front of him, his face a mask of sorrow hiding years of grief. Looking at Ackeran now, he knew he couldn't hurt him. Ackeran had being hoping to drive Aragorn into desperation with torture, hoping that Aragorn would kill him at the first opportunity feeling that it was the only escape.   
  
  
  
He'd never expected Aragorn to pity him.   
  
  
  
But that's just what Aragorn did. Watching him, Aragorn saw only a man who had been a friend of his father, who had unwittingly led him to his death. The guilt that had been plaguing the man since that day was more than enough punishment.   
  
  
  
"Have you got a more comfortable place to talk?" Aragorn asked.   
  
  
  
The surprise on Ackeran's face was obvious enough proof that he hadn't been expecting this. "But... then…"   
  
  
  
"I don't mean to kill you?" Aragorn finished for him, "No. I don't."   
  
  
  
"But… it's what I deserve."   
  
  
  
"People don't always get what they deserve. My father didn't." The shame that crossed Ackeran's face almost made Aragorn regret his words. Almost. Pity him though he did, this man was still responsible for his father's death. Lord Elrond had been right about that.   
  
  
  
Ackeran got to his feet, and Aragorn made no move to help him do so. He simply followed as Ackeran left the room. A short while later they sat in a much more comfortable room. Aragorn was on a wide arm chair, careful not to lean back.   
  
  
  
"What do you plan on doing to me," Aragorn asked, "now that I will not kill you?"   
  
  
  
"I don't know," Ackeran replied, "I never thought that this would happen."   
  
  
  
"Then I shall tell you what you will do. You will find out who bought the elf I was with, and the child. You will tell me everything you know about where they are held so that I can find them. And then you will continue to live your life and hope that we never meet again." Ackeran nodded.   
  
  
  
"I can have someone tend to your wounds," Ackeran said as he stood. It was Aragorn's turn to nod. A short time later he was feeling very much better, his back, side and arm smothered in ointment and bandaged.   
  
  
  
Ackeran returned, followed by a slave carrying a large tray of food which he set in front of Aragorn before leaving. Aragorn ate hungrily, without waiting for an invitation, and listened to what Ackeran had to say.   
  
  
  
"The elf and child were both bought by Kerinya, a rich and powerful lady in these parts. Her property is well guarded, you would not be able to get in there and bring them out."   
  
  
  
"I was trained by elves," Aragorn said, "I will help them. Tell me everything you can of Kerinya."   
  
  
  
"She is not evil," Ackeran answered, "but she, like almost all here, does not see slaves as people. She does not take pleasure in another's pain, but she will not hesitate to hurt any slave she feels deserves it. If your friend is as stubborn as all other elves I have known, he will not do well in her household."   
  
  
  
"What of her household and lands? How will I get in there?"   
  
  
  
"Most of the houses round here have exterior wall, always guarded, and there will be guards on the main entrance as well."   
  
  
  
"Any side entrances?"   
  
  
  
"I don't know."   
  
  
  
"Well, help me find out!"   
  
  
  
"I'll do what I can."   
  
  
  
"Good. And get someone to take this damn collar off me!"   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Author's note: Sorry it's such a short chapter: again blame school. Ah well, only another year of that to go before I can start being overwhelmed by university work and the essential socialising. 


	12. Chapter 12

Author's note: I've FINALLY found some time to write. Sorry I took so long. I'll try and be quicker about getting the next chapter up. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. If I didn't manage to email you and say thank you personally, I'm sorry. Again, I blame the lack of free time.   
  
Anyway, no more delays. On with the story.  
  
***  
  
Legolas began his day carrying hot water for his mistress's bath, adding scented oils as Emerin had instructed. He then went to wake her. His father would probably be shocked to learn he was in a woman's bedchamber before she was dressed, but it wasn't as though he was at any risk of being tempted to damage his honour by lying with her. He would sooner lie with an orc.   
  
He picked a dress at random out of the wardrobe, having no real idea what she would want to wear. After what seemed an enormously long time, even for an elf, she emerged from the bath room and proceeded to dress. Legolas, his eyes remaining fixed on some empty point on the wall, wondered how she could even think of standing almost naked with a male in the room.   
  
"I see you are learning your place, slave," she said when she was finished.   
  
"Yes, mistress." Legolas forced himself to choke out that second word, however much it galled him to say it. It was no lie, he already knew his place. It was beside his father's chair in the palace of Mirkwood.   
  
Breakfast passed without incident, and Legolas stood in his mistress's study, watching her write out a letter. He longed to sit, or even simply lean against the wall, but knew he could not. Still, he was a warrior trained and was perfectly capable of standing still for hours. He just didn't like it.   
  
The boredom was being to get to him, when there was a knock at the door. He looked to his mistress for permission and then opened it. A young man walked in, passing Legolas as though he were nothing but a piece of furniture, and bowed slightly to the woman. He held out a letter to her.   
  
She took the letter and read it quickly.   
  
"Tell your employer I will gladly speak with him," she said. The messenger bowed again and left. Legolas' mistress turned to him again, "Go to the kitchens and tell them to prepare extra food for dinner. I will be having a guest." Legolas did as he was ordered, grateful to be out of that room. He was curious to say the least as to who this guest would be.   
  
He found out late in the afternoon, as he stood in the hall while his mistress greeted the guest. It was the man who had bought Aragorn in the marketplace. It took all of Legolas' self control not to give an exclamation of surprise when he saw Aragorn standing behind him. The metal collar at his throat and the stiffness of his movement suggested that his captivity had been as pleasant as Legolas's.   
  
"Welcome, Lord Ackeran," his mistress said to the man.   
  
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Kerinya," Ackeran responded.   
  
"I am curious as to why you asked for this meeting at such short notice."   
  
"Perhaps that is something we should discuss in private," Ackeran glanced at Aragorn, "Slaves may talk to other slaves, and what I want to talk to you about should remain between us."   
  
"As you wish." Kerinya turned to Legolas, "Take Lord Ackeran's slave to the slave quarters and wait until I send for you!"   
  
Ackeran, much to Legolas' amazement, then spoke to Aragorn briefly in Elvish. "I cannot restore your father's life, but I can offer mine for your sake." A flicker of surprise crossed Aragorn's face, followed swiftly by understanding.   
  
"Thank you," Aragorn replied quietly, also in Elvish. Then Ackeran and Kerinya left, and Legolas gestured Aragorn in the direction of the slave quarters.   
  
"Who is that man?" Legolas asked. Knowing that Aragorn spoke Elvish, he used that language. He didn't want anyone to overhear their conversation.   
  
"That's a long story, and not one I wish to share just yet." Legolas nodded.   
  
"How's Lenna?"   
  
"She's well. She doesn't really understand what's happened to her, but she doesn't seem to mind too much either."   
  
"We will be leaving tonight," Aragorn said, "and we will be taking Lenna with us."   
  
"We?" Legolas wasn't sure whether he meant the two of them, or if he merely meant himself and this Ackeran.   
  
"Unless you would rather stay here than return home." The expression on the human's face told Legolas he wasn't serious.   
  
"What's your plan?"   
  
They had reached the slaves quarters by now, and stepped inside. Lenna was sitting at a chair in a large room, along with a few young women, sewing. The moment she saw Legolas and Aragorn she dropped her work and raced to them.   
  
"Agorn!"   
  
Her arms wrapped around Aragorn's legs, pinning him more effectively than an attacker might. Legolas chuckled with mild amusement at the man's predicament. A rather half-hearted glare suggested that Aragorn also found the situation amusing.   
  
"Child," one of the women called, "get back to work!" The order was softly given, but Aragorn pried Lenna's arms from his legs.   
  
"You should do as they tell you. We will be together soon." He gave her a gentle push towards her abandoned sewing.   
  
"What is your plan?" Legolas asked again.   
  
"Tell me, do all the slaves eat together here?"   
  
"From what I've seen, those not serving the 'mistress' do."   
  
"Good, that will make things easier," Aragorn said, "In the confusion of everyone going to dinner, we'll find a side entrance. There's bound to be a doorway somewhere, into a coal yard or a kitchen garden. Something so taken for granted that it won't be guarded. Even if it is, no one will notice slaves going through."   
  
"As soon as we're noticed missing, they'll search for us."   
  
"Searching for slaves. If we get the collars off, they'll assume we're just traders or farmers, or something of that sort. They won't give us a second glance."   
  
"And how do you plan on getting the collars off?" Legolas couldn't believe even a human would miss something so obvious, which meant Aragorn must have found some solution.   
  
"Apparently slave collars are almost always made with identical locks, and I have a key."   
  
Legolas remember Emerin suddenly. "There is a human here I promised I would help escape," he said, "His name is Emerin."   
  
"I would free every slave in this place if I could," Aragorn said, "Go tell this man our plan. Have him be ready."   
  
***  
  
Later that evening, Legolas held Lenna's hand as they walked towards the doorway to the kitchen gardens. He held a basket in his hand, the sort that were used for collecting vegetables. There was a guard standing at the doorway, so he spoke to Lenna as they passed.   
  
"Pick only what I tell you," he said, "we don't want you picking the wrong things and getting into trouble now, do we?" Lenna shook her head. The guard didn't make any attempt to stop them or question them as they passed. Legolas continued walking through the gardens and round the corner. They slipped into the shadow of the building and waited. In the dark night, they were almost invisible.   
  
After a few minutes silence Lenna began to say something, but Legolas quickly pressed his hand across her mouth. He bent down and whispered softly in her ear. " Remain silent. Do not speak unless I tell you. Understand?" Lenna nodded, and Legolas moved his hand.   
  
Shortly, Emerin arrived, again with no challenge from the guard. Legolas was beginning to think that Aragorn's plan might work, when he heard the guard speak.   
  
"You're not allowed to come. . ." The guard's comment transformed into a grunt of pain. Legolas could hear the sounds of a few blows falling, then Aragorn appeared beside them.   
  
"We must hurry," he said. He pulled a key from his pocket, and quickly released the collars from the three adults. He lifted Lenna into his arms and hurry they did.   
  
The kitchen garden went all the way to the wall of the house, but the rows of vegetables offered no cover. They ran quickly, but Aragorn was covering the distance slower than the other two, hampered by the child in his arms.   
  
"What now?" Emerin asked when they reached the wall.   
  
"We climb over," Aragorn said, nodding his head towards a tall oak tree, growing beside the wall.   
  
"I've not climbed trees in years."   
  
"Then it's about time you did so again."   
  
"I will climb part-way up," Legolas said, "pass Lenna up to me and then climb yourself." The climb was awkward. Legolas climbed up himself easily enough, then reached down to take the girl. She whimpered in fear as the ground was taken away from her, and her hands frantically searching for the best grip on Legolas's arm made it difficult for him to hold her.   
  
"Stay still," he told her. He shifted her so that she was at his front, arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist. Aragorn reached him quickly, and climbed higher. Legolas realised it would be foolish to try and climb himself while holding Lenna and handed her up to Aragorn in turn. Emerin was struggling on his own too much to help with the child.   
  
At last they were all level with the wall. Legolas had never taken so long to climb a tree before. He had been expecting an outcry at any moment as someone found the guard or discovered they were missing. But it never came.   
  
Looking down over the wall, Legolas knew he could jump the distance with no problems. The others would not be so fortunate. Aragorn might be able to get down alright, but Legolas couldn't be sure as he didn't know much about humans. Emerin he had more doubts about and as for Lenna, she would never last the drop.   
  
"I will jump first," Legolas said, "I will catch Lenna and you must get down as best you can."   
  
He did so, without waiting for an answer. On the ground, he looked up and saw the shadowy forms at the top of the wall. Aragorn seemed to be struggling with Lenna. She didn't want to jump and was doing what she could to fight Aragorn. Legolas had a feeling that she would fall soon, and awkwardly, and he couldn't be sure of catching her without hurting her.   
  
"Lenna," he called up as loudly as he dared, "trust me. I won't let you get hurt. Jump." He heard her whimper of fear, but she did jump. And he did catch her. She clung to him, trembling like an autumn leaf in the wind. He whispered meaningless syllables of comfort into her ears as Aragorn had another battle of trying to get Emerin to jump.   
  
If anything the man seemed more afraid than Lenna, but at last he lowered himself down by his arms and then dropped. He landed badly, with a grunt of pain. Aragorn dropped instantly to his side.   
  
"Are you hurt?" he asked.   
  
"My leg, a little."   
  
Aragorn's hands quickly felt over the offending extremity. "There are no breaks," he said, "you should be alright." He helped Emerin to his feet. The man was limping slightly, but no worse than that.   
  
"Where now?" Legolas asked.   
  
"The slave market," Aragorn said, in a tone that informed the others he would accept no questions. Still, question it Legolas did.   
  
"Are you crazy? Why would we go back there? We will be recaptured instantly."   
  
"They have my sword."  
  
"You would risk your life for a possession?" There were times when Legolas thought human stupidity was infinite. This was one of them.   
  
"It's not just a possession."   
  
"I want my bow back too," Legolas said, "it was a gift from my father. But it's not worth my life to get it."   
  
"I risked my life to get you out of that house," Aragorn said, "If you don't like my leadership you can go back in there."   
  
"Fighting will get us nowhere," Emerin interrupted. "Perhaps going to the slave market would not be such a terrible idea. No one will expect us to go there."   
  
"Because no one in their right mind would."   
  
"But it means no one will search for us there." Legolas had to agree that Emerin was right, though he still felt Aragorn was insane for this plan. Still, they had more chances of surviving if they stayed together.   
  
"Very well," he said.   
  
Emerin led the way to the slave market since he had been there several times before. A large building, away from the stage and walkway, stood dark and, apparently, empty. The only sign of life came from the two guards at the door.   
  
"That's where they'll most likely have anything they took from those they capture," Emerin said, "If they haven't already sold it."   
  
"They won't have sold my sword," Aragorn said with certainty, "It's practically worthless to anyone but myself." Legolas decided this wasn't the time to ask him to explain that cryptic remark.   
  
A quick discussion of the plan left Emerin crouching in the shadows with Lenna, while Aragorn and Legolas crept towards the building. They approached on opposite sides, Legolas listening for the almost inaudible sound of the human's footsteps. To anyone else, he would have been silent.   
  
They reached the corners of the building together, and simultaneously launched their attacks. They each leapt at the closest of the guards, striking out before he had any time to react. In moments the door was unguarded and Aragorn flung his body against it to break the lock on the door.   
  
Inside it was almost pitch black, the only light the dim moonlight coming through the window. It took his elven vision to see a large chest in the corner of the room. He crossed to it quickly, Aragorn immediately behind him. He moved well considering the dark. Legolas had half expected him to trip over something.   
  
The chest was locked, but Aragorn produced a wire from somewhere and somehow managed to open it.   
  
"Where did you learn to do that?" Legolas asked.   
  
"Elrohir and Elladan."   
  
"So why didn't you do it on the outside door?"   
  
"Because I only found the wire in here."   
  
"You saw it?" Even in the dim light, Legolas could see Aragorn was grinning. He searched through the items in the chest and, sure enough, took out a sheathed sword. Legolas looked, but there was no sign of anything even resembling a bow in there. He was sad about that. Even with what he felt about coming here, he would have been glad to find his bow.   
  
Aragorn had just stood when Legolas heard a sound from the doorway. A sound he recognised. He yanked Aragorn back to the ground as an arrow imbedded itself in the wood, just behind where his head had been.   
  
Two figures stood, dark shapes against a dark sky, the silhouettes of bows just recognisable, and aimed at them.   
  
"If you move, you die," one of the figures said.   
  
***  
  
Author's note: Oh, come on. You didn't really think I'd let them escape, did you?   
  
Review, and I may manage to squeeze some writing time in around everything else I have to do. Don't review, and I'll just leave you with this cliffhanger. Evil? Me? 


	13. Chapter 13

Aragorn had dropped his sword when Legolas had pulled him to the ground, and wondered if whomever was in the doorway would see him going for it. Unfortunately a sword was no use when the enemy had bows, and a broken sword was even less.   
  
Aragorn glanced quickly across at Legolas. Even in the darkness, he could see the elf was tensed, ready to leap to his feet when chance allowed. Aragorn shifted himself, imperceptibly to the figures in the doorway, putting him in a better position to rise and fight. He was lying on his front, but he raised himself just slightly onto his knees and hands. He would be kneeling in less than a second of moving and standing immediately after.   
  
One of them came closer, but the other kept his arrow aimed at them. The figure came to Aragorn first, whether by chance or purpose, and Aragorn was ready for him. The man came round behind Aragorn, drawing a short dagger, and Aragorn pushed himself up quickly. His sudden shift in position put him behind the man and a grab round the legs sent the man crashing to the ground.   
  
He heard the sound of an arrow being let fly, then heard it strike wood. He wasted no time in grabbing his sword, bringing it round, still sheathed, into the man's head. The blow sent him into the realms of unconsciousness.   
  
Aragorn hurried to his feet, searching out Legolas as he did so. Legolas was at the doorway, dealing with the second man. Aragorn relaxed momentarily, seeing he was safe, then Legolas twisted slightly, and something on his side gleamed darkly in the moonlight. The arrow must have grazed his side.   
  
The man dealt Legolas a savage blow to the head and the elf crumpled. Aragorn was charging towards him, when someone else took out the attacker for him. He fell dead, an arrow piercing his back.   
  
Whether whoever had shot him was aiming for him or Legolas didn't matter for the moment. Aragorn's first concern was seeing that Legolas was alright. He knelt by his side, keeping against the wall so he wouldn't present a clear target, he checked breathing. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he saw the chest rise and fall. But Legolas' eyes were closed.   
  
Aragorn seized the man's bow, ready to face whoever was still out there, but never even placed an arrow on the string. He raised his head to view the point of an arrow only inches from his face. No man could have crept up on him unheard and, sure enough, the moonlight revealed the pointed tips of ears.   
  
"I'm am a friend," he said swiftly in elvish.   
  
The elf looked at his fallen prince, then back at Aragorn, without ever altering his aim.   
  
"You are Aragorn?" he asked in his own language.   
  
"Yes." Aragorn thought that for once luck might be on his side. The king of Mirkwood must have received his letter and sent help after his son.   
  
The elf stared at him for a moment, his face in shadow so Aragorn couldn't make out his expression. He had a feeling though that it wasn't good. At last the elf lowered his bow, though he made no move to help Aragorn up.   
  
Aragorn stood, ignoring the pain in his back and side. The night's exertions hadn't been kind to his injuries, and he had a feeling this brief struggle might have reopened a couple of cuts. The elf gave a short whistle, clearly a signal, and another two appeared beside him.   
  
"I will take care of his highness," the first elf said, "bind this human."   
  
"What?" Aragorn had barely enough time to begin to protest when firm hands wrapped around his arms. The grasp on his already painful left arm stopped any thought of struggling. Besides, he had no wish to hurt elves.   
  
"You will be taken to King Thranduil to answer form your crimes."   
  
"What crimes?" Aragorn's arms were now securely tied behind him, and his left arm and back were protesting savagely to this treatment. He was now certain he was bleeding again.   
  
"Kidnapping a prince of Mirkwood, attempting to capture other elves for slavery."   
  
"I've done nothing to Legolas but try and help him." The elf's answer to that was a blow across Aragorn's cheek that almost made him fall backwards.   
  
"Do not speak of the prince with such disrespect." He was shoved roughly past Legolas' still form and out into the night. He could see now that there were more elves about. A sharp, frightened cry caused Aragorn to turn to the place where Emerin and Lenna had remained hidden.   
  
Emerin was moving forward into the moonlight, the tip of a sword pressed to his back. Lenna was struggling in the arms of an elf.   
  
"Lenna!" Aragorn gasped.   
  
"Agorn! Agorn!" Lenna called as she was brought closer.   
  
"Don't hurt her!" Aragorn said, "She's but a child."   
  
"Unlike humans, we do not hurt innocents." Lenna didn't seem to understand what was going on, and struggled fiercely and uselessly.   
  
"Lenna, be still," Aragorn warned her. She did still her struggles slightly. "I won't let them hurt you, Lenna." He wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to stop them if they tried, but he doubted they would try.   
  
Lenna was bound securely but kindly. The elves were less generous with Emerin. They set off quickly, walking from the slave market at a pace Lenna couldn't keep up with and so was carried. Legolas was also carried, held gently in the arms of the elf who had ordered Aragorn bound.   
  
Within a few minutes they were at the town wall. The gate stood unguarded, for which Aragorn was immensely grateful. The group must have cleared the way when they entered. He hadn't thought through the escape plan as far as getting past the gate.   
  
As it was they were outside quickly, and the elf who held Legolas whistled. Elven horses came trotting up in answer to the call. Aragorn found himself seated ahead of one of the elves, and saw that the others were treated the same way. Legolas' head fell back against the chest of the one who rode behind him. Aragorn was beginning to worry for him. It must have been a severe blow for him to remain unconscious for so long, and there was still no sign of him stirring. Any injuries he might have had could well have been aggravated by moving him, and unless the elf was incredibly fast, the arrow wound was still untreated.   
  
He somehow doubted that his advice would be well received by the elves.   
  
***  
  
Legolas felt hands on his hand, and felt the pain. Barely conscious, he was fighting against them, fearing he had been recaptured.   
  
"You are safe," a voice said softly in elvish.   
  
"Aragorn?" he asked, opening his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight. He was surprised to find that the face that greeted his gaze wasn't human.   
  
"Nay, my lord," he said. It was one of his father's soldiers, Tamil, he thought his name was. "You are safe now."   
  
Recent memories sifted through his foggy mind. "Where is Aragorn?" he asked.   
  
"He is here," Tamil replied, "We have him securely bound and guarded for the journey back to Mirkwood. Your father can see to his trial and execution on our return."   
  
"Execution?" Legolas' mind must be fussier than he'd thought. He couldn't see why Aragorn would be executed. "He saved my life," Legolas said, "He came to help rescue me from slavery instead of just escaping himself. He risked his life for mine when many others would have left me there."   
  
"We thought," Tamil said, "that he was the one who captured you. The other human came to Mirkwood with a letter from him and your father sent us after you. We were attacked by slavers at the point where you were supposed to be. We assumed Aragorn had set a trap, intending to gain several elven slaves."   
  
Legolas shook his head, immediately regretting it as it swum in pain. "Aragorn was captured by the same slavers I was. He has done nothing but try to help me. Have him released at once."   
  
Tamil went to do as he was ordered, and a few moments later Aragorn was at his side. The human knelt beside him and helped him into a sitting position.   
  
"Thank you."   
  
"You're welcome, your highness." From the expression on Aragorn's face, Legolas guessed he thought he meant helping him sit up.   
  
"I meant thank you for everything. Thank you for saving my life."   
  
"Again, you're welcome."   
  
"You may act as though it's nothing, Aragorn, but you risked your life for me when I have shown you no kindness. Why?"   
  
"For the same reason you wanted to help Lenna and Emerin escape," Aragorn said, "Kindness." At the mere mention of her name, Lenna appeared. Tamil was standing behind her, watching her fling her arms around Legolas with severe disapproval.   
  
"Lenna, don't like nelfs," she said, "Nelfs nasty."   
  
"You like one elf," Aragorn said, clearly struggling not to laugh.   
  
"Leggy's nice. Leggy hoom like us."   
  
"Hoom?" Legolas enquired, raising his eyebrows at Aragorn, who was on the verge of hysterics.   
  
"I think you've just been made an honorary human," Aragorn said, adding a hasty "your highness" when he saw the look on Tamil's face.   
  
"Leggy's not high," Lenna said, "he's lying down."   
  
That started Legolas laughing, which aggravated the wound where the arrow had struck him during the fight at the slave market. He reached a hand to his side, moving sharply, which just made his head throb more painfully than before.   
  
"You try explaining titles to her," he muttered, closing his eyes again, "my head hurts too much to cope."   
  
"No, I'll save that pleasure for you when we reach your home."   
  
Legolas groaned, "Hopefully I'll be dead before then."   
  
"Why you want to die?" Lenna asked, sounding very concerned. Legolas did something he knew he'd never be allowed to do in his own home, and pulled Lenna into his arms, hugging her closely and laughing into her hair. He couldn't understand how anyone could have been so cruel as to try and hurt this sweet, innocent child.   
  
***  
  
Author's note: More sweet Lenna moments. Bet you never guessed elves would be coming to the rescue. If you did, have ten points. They're completely worthless, but you can have them if you really want. 


	14. Chapter 14

The final stage of the journey to Mirkwood was a pleasant one. Aragorn rode Legolas' horse, with Legolas perched in front of him, having to endure Aragorn's teasing. Legolas was now certain that the only reason Aragorn had pronounced him unfit to ride on his own was so that he could laugh at him. Emerin rode beside them, with Lenna in front of him. The little girl pestered them with questions about 'nelfs' and Legolas' home. The other elves in the party glared at her for her insolence, but said nothing, seeing the fondness their prince had for her.   
  
They had decided on the second night, once Lenna had finally been convinced to go to sleep, that she should stay with Emerin until they could find out where her mother was. Emerin was fond of the child, and had a daughter at home for Lenna to squabble with. Much as he liked her, Legolas knew that a human child wouldn't be welcome in Mirkwood.   
  
The only major incident on the return journey was when Aragorn asked if he could have his sword back. Tamil made a comment about not seeing why he would want it, since it was broken and useless.   
  
"Broken?" Legolas asked, "Broken? You took us back to the slave market and put all our lives at risk for the sake of a broken sword?"   
  
"It belonged to my father," Aragorn said, as though it was perfectly reasonable. Legolas was sorely tempted to hit the arrogant human. Hard. He only managed to restrain himself because Aragorn was the closest they had to a healer with them, and his side was still painful. Legolas didn't think beating him to a pulp and then asking for a change of bandages would be well received.   
  
"Are you completely insane?" Legolas demanded.   
  
"Lord Elrond sometimes claims I am," Aragorn responded calmly. Legolas' self-control was fraying rapidly, and was only saved by an innocent inquiry.   
  
"Where's sane?"   
  
Their arrival in Mirkwood was mixture of relief and welcome (in Legolas' case) and suspicion and anger (in Aragorn's case). Legolas was struggling to convince his father that he was fine, that Aragorn hadn't been the one selling him into slavery, that he didn't need immediate treatment by the healers because he was fine, that the humans shouldn't be locked away in the dungeon and that HE WAS FINE!   
  
Aragorn muttered something under his breath that Legolas was glad he didn't properly because he had a feeling that if he had he'd have had to kill the human for it.   
  
Legolas had finally managed to make his father understand he should be thanking Aragorn not executing him, though he was still struggling with making him understand he was fine, when two horses rode up to the palace from the other direction.   
  
Legolas recognised the identical elves who were riding them. They dismounted simultaneously and bowed low before King Thranduil, before turning to Aragorn.   
  
"In trouble again, Aragorn?" one of them asked.   
  
"Actually, this time I was the one getting others out of trouble," Aragorn responded. One of the new arrivals went to the king.   
  
"As you asked, your majesty, we can confirm that the human with your son is indeed an elf-friend, fostered to Lord Elrond." It was a shame they couldn't have arrived ten minutes earlier, Legolas decided, he wouldn't have had to talk himself hoarse convincing his father of the very same thing.   
  
King Thranduil turned to one of the guards, "Have the other human released from the dungeons."   
  
"If the other human in Halbarad," the second of Lord Elrond's son's said, "it might be better to leave him there. His brother's looking for him."   
  
***  
  
Lenna behaved herself perfectly at her first royal banquet, probably due to the hour Aragorn, Legolas and Emerin had spent with her, telling her not to ask impertinent questions of the king. Elladan and Elrohir had just laughed at their struggles, refusing to offer any assistance. They probably felt it would be funny if she acted improperly. Legolas was beginning to feel Aragorn had been right in describing them as twin demons.   
  
Lenna asked something incomprehensible, and Aragorn was forced to reach out and take her thumb from her mouth. "Is he nasty?" she asked again.   
  
"No," Legolas said, "but he's important. And little girls shouldn't ask important people questions. Little girls should remember the questions and ask Leggy later." Lenna nodded, and stuck her thumb back into her mouth.   
  
An exasperated Aragorn removed it.   
  
Elrohir and Elladan had been delighted to hear about Legolas' new name, and were teasing Aragorn about his.   
  
"I wonder if Agorn will grow into an oag tree," one of them whispered to the other, just loudly enough to be overheard.   
  
Apparently when King Thranduil had received Aragorn's letter he'd sent a message to Rivendell, asking if they could confirm the fact that there was a human fostered there. The twins had decided they might be needed to get Aragorn out of whatever trouble he'd found this time and so had come themselves. They might have missed the adventure, but they were perfectly happy to enjoy the party.   
  
Legolas, on the other hand, didn't enjoy the banquet that his father had thrown in celebration of his safe return, but he endured it with princely dignity. Elrohir and Elladan sat either side of Lenna, talking cheerfully and generally behaving as though they were all children.   
  
Aragorn made polite conversation with the king and the elvish nobles, having grown up doing the like in Rivendell. Halbarad had been released and was listening intently as Aragorn described the adventure. Nothing went wrong, and the king seemed pleased with Aragorn, but Legolas was still pleased when it was over.   
  
Legolas was showing the guests to their rooms, simply so that he could speak to Aragorn. Emerin and Lenna were settled in the room that they were to share, since Lenna wasn't considered old enough to be left alone and Legolas didn't dare ask his father if he could take care of her. The others had continued on when Legolas asked Aragorn again, "Who was that man? Ackeran?"   
  
"Ackeran?" Elrohir, at least Legolas thought it was Elrohir, asked in shock.   
  
"He tried to drive me to kill him," Aragorn replied quietly, "He wanted to die by my hand, because he blamed himself for my father's death."   
  
"He betrayed your father," Elladan said angrily.   
  
"Not intentionally. He wanted forgiveness seventeen years ago, but now he just wanted to die."   
  
"Did you kill him?" one of the twins (Elrohir?) asked.   
  
"No," Aragorn said, "but he knew that he might well be killed once they found out Legolas, Emerin and Lenna were missing. He accepted death as justice." There was sadness in his voice that Legolas' didn't quite understand. If this human was really to blame for Aragorn's father's death, why should Aragorn be sad about such a fitting punishment?   
  
"He was kind to me when I was a child," Aragorn went on, "because he thought that by caring for me he might earn some measure of forgiveness. When you took me home, he lost that hope."   
  
"I will not feel pity for that man," one of the twins said.   
  
"Then don't, but you will not stop me feeling it." By this time they had reached Aragorn's room and he went inside, closing the door pointedly in their faces.   
  
"Who was his father?" Legolas asked, once they were out of earshot of Aragorn's room.   
  
"His father was Arathorn."   
  
Legolas might not know much about humans, but he knew that name. "Aragorn is Isulder's heir?"   
  
"And the keeper of the Sword that was Broken."   
  
Well, that explained some things, but Legolas had had no idea he was in the debt of someone who's lineage was as proud as Legolas'.   
  
"You shouldn't underestimate him," Elrohir said, "He's a lot more than he seems."   
  
The End  
  
Author's note: I thought I probably ought to mention what had happened to Halbarad.   
  
Thank you to everyone who's reviewed at any stage in this story. I LOVE YOU ALL!!!   
  
Coming soon to a computer screen near you. . . some more random wanderings of thought processes created by my subconscious to prevent me doing my homework. 


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